


Streetlights Talk

by dnawhite76, Prubbs



Series: Heart to Tell [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: M/M, POV Alternating, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnawhite76/pseuds/dnawhite76, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prubbs/pseuds/Prubbs
Summary: After the introduction of Damian to the Bruce's life- Dick decides to take a break from the family, unsure if he can find out where he stands in the line up. But when the Joker seemingly comes back from the dead and starts to pick off Robins, it is up to Batman and Nightwing to look into the matter as the masked crusader and boy wonder once again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _“What the hell is the matter with you? I mean aside from the obvious- ignoring all the many layers of denial, and the fifty feet of psychological body armor that you throw up to avoid feeling anything! Aside from that, and the pathological need to control everything on Earth and beyond! Ignoring all that. What exactly is your compulsion? Your burning desire to manipulate the only people who give a good god damn about you!” - **Richard Grayson**_

**CHAPTER ONE**

Dick wasn’t avoiding him. He would have sworn on his mother’s life if she wasn’t already dead, but he refused to answer the phone to tell _Him_ that. He knew it wasn’t Bruce anyway. It would be Alfred calling for Bruce. Alfred calling to tell Dick that Bruce wanted to call him, but was too busy-and that he didn’t mean it this time and that he was sorry. Dick had heard the entire thing before, time after time, always going back- going home- because that was where his home was. It was all that he had. Alfred and Bruce in their cave, hiding secrets in vacant manor halls that no longer had room for him. It was different with Jason and even Tim. When they had come to the manor they were Bruce’s wards, just like he had been. Misfit children who needed structure, not a father, and didn’t expect anything but that from Bruce. Dick stopped in and out, sharing what he had learned with them, passing the cap from one to the other as any good mentor would do.

But Damian… Damian was Bruce’s son. His flesh and blood, appearing out of nowhere with an instant claim on what Dick had worked so hard to gain and was never fully given. Not a father, but some kind of twisted family. He had thought that after all of this and everything else they had been through together, they would at least see eye to eye on that. 

**-**

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Tim grunted as he yanked the robber into the air by his ankle and smashed his boot into his face, knocking him out. 

Dick grabbed his gun and pulled out the clip. “It’s _not_ a big deal.” Dick told him for the third time, “It’s not a small deal, or any kind of deal at all.” he said sliding through the small teller booth across the table and crashing into the next man so hard that he crumbled to the floor. Dick stepped on his hand hard until he heard a crack and the man yelled before he finally let go of his gun, which Dick kicked as far away from the group as he could. 

Tim sprinted ahead of them and caught the last one in the heels with a bat blade and he screamed as he fell, holding himself in the fetal position. “If it wasn’t 'any kind of deal', then why is Alfred so worried?” he asked throwing the duffel bag to the security guard who was watching them shocked in the corner. 

“He’s always worried.” Dick amended hitting Tim's shoulder and nodding to the back where the police were starting to come through. “Let's get going.” he breathed and they ran toward the blown out window they had snuck in through. 

**-**

His phone rang again chirping out the Batman theme song and lighting up his screen with the signal. Dick sighed turning it over. Bruce had thrown a fit the first time that it went off in front of him, demanding to know why he thought it was so funny to throw his identity around like his personal life didn’t matter, but that just made it seem funnier to Dick. Bruce was the worst about actually taking care of himself. Alfred just always let him _think_ that he had it together. The phone went to voicemail as Dick leaned back against his headboard to flip through the new exhibit reports for what should be ariving in at the end of the week. 

His computer clicked on and Bruce was staring at him through the monitor, his face furious and annoyed. “Is your phone broken?” he demanded making Dick jump and throw his papers everywhere. 

“How many times do we have to go over this?” he demanded at the screen, “This is my bedroom, what if I was naked?” 

“You aren’t,” Bruce deadpanned, “And if you answered your phone then I wouldn’t have to do this.” 

Dick ran a hand down his face and stared at him, too exhausted to argue about who had wronged who in all the wrongs that they had done to each other. “What do you want Bruce?” he asked finally. 

Bruce’s face contorted and became uncomfortable. He looked away from the screen and let out a deep sigh before he said very quickly. “Damian is gone.” 

“What do you mean he’s gone?” He asked pulling out his computer chair and dropping into it. 

“He just disappeared,” Bruce told him uncomfortably again and cleared his throat, “And if Ra’s Al Ghul finds him first-”

“I get it.” Dick waved him off feeling his aggravation grow tension, “I’ll take Crime Alley, you go for the mob and call Tim for Dockside.”

Bruce nodded still not looking at him. “Right, turn your comm on.” he told him and left the screen blank. 

“Your welcome.” Dick grumbled as he grabbed his suit. 

**-**

It was cold outside. If he hadn’t been so annoyed at Bruce, Dick might have even found it in himself to feel bad for the little idiot for running off. “Nothing on Dockside.” Tim said through his earpiece as Dick leaped out of another alleyway and sprinted from one rooftop to the next. 

“It’s clear on my end as well.” Bruce answered grimly.

Dick was about to reply with more of the same when he noticed a small huddle of figures in the alley to the right. He dropped down the fire escape and landed on the balls of his feet only barely rattling the metal, not enough for anyone to look up in the wind. There were two boys there pressing a third’s face into the wall and laughing. “Don’t know what a little rich boy is doing down here, but I’m interested in seeing what is in his pocket-” 

Dick jumped to the ground then and the boys looked up at him terrified. “Go. Before you can’t.” he told them and they flew past him, barely staying on their feet in their eagerness to get away. The third boy was sitting on the ground now, his face was bleeding as he faced Dick with a defiant glare. He had yet to meet Damian, but he didn't need a picture to know that this was Bruce’s son. Dick knelt in front of him and grabbed Damian's chin so that he could look at his face. “They got you pretty good, huh?” he frowned. Damian’s eyebrow was bleeding and his lip was split open. “Never would have thought your old man would let you out of the house without knowing how to throw a good pun-” he grunted when the boy’s fist hit in him in the gut and he took off running toward the mouth of the alley. “Little shit.” he hissed pushing off the ground and throwing out one of his escrima sticks, making Damian trip hard. He walked the rest of the way and grabbed the staff from the ground, letting Damian turn to look up at him. “I’ll tie you up if I have to.” he promised reaching out his hand. “Your choice.”

**\---**

“Damian.”

The boy walked past without acknowledging him. Bruce turned and before he could say anything Dick bumped his shoulder. “I heard there was a reward?” Bruce just grunted and headed back to the computer. Damian slammed the door on his way back up to the manor. “I thought you said he was a child assassin?” Dick asked perching on the empty space on the desk next to him. 

“He is."Bruce told him. "Raised by the league.” he scanned the reports from the police department. 

“The question was because the kid got his ass kicked by generic brats.” Dick slid off the desk. “Think about it.” 

**-**

Alfred coughed at him the next morning. He looked up from the paper and Alfred was frowning at him. The man's eyes flicked to Damian who was pushing his spoon around in his oatmeal. Bruce looked back to Alfred and raised an eyebrow and the man just sighed like he had disappointed him. 

**-**

“Damian got beat up.”

Clark looked over. “That does come with fighting villains.”

“No, not Robin. Damian. He tried to run away and Nightwing found him. He'd been attacked by a pair of teenagers.”

Clark stared at him for a second. Bruce knew that he wasn't going to like what he said. “Maybe he just wants your attention? Your boy wonder did the same thing, but he did it in costume. Damian is just trying to get you to see him not Robin.”

“Didn't I give you that advice about Connor?” 

“Shouldn't you take your own advice then?” 

“Damian doesn't-”

“Damian is your son. Not one of your Robins.”

“They aren't a collection. Dick was like my s-” 

“Do you really want to finish that sentence?” Clark raised an eyebrow with a smirk. 

He regretted ever agreeing to that idiotic competition. “No.” 

Clark slapped his shoulder, softly for him. He still had to hide a wince. “Pay closer attention to the boy. You'll be fine.”

**-**

“Is Nightwing coming with us?” Damian focused on buckling his belt after he asked. 

“No. Nightwing has his own patrols.” 

“OK.” 

Bruce looked over and Damian looked disgruntled. It was a common look for him, but he didn't know the cause for this one. “Maybe next time.”

Damian nodded, looking less disgruntled. He sighed. Now he was going to have another question to ask Clark.

**\---**

“Careful,” Dick snapped at the movers as they raised a four thousand year old painting onto the cargo hold. They glared at him but moved more slowly before moving onto the next piece of the exhibit. He turned away when he saw that they weren’t going to break anything and signed off on what they had left in the truck. He had worked for months to get these pieces in from France, and he wasn’t about to send them back broken because of careless unloading.

“Mr. Grayson?” he looked up as the receptionist peaked through the door by the docking bay. She was young and pretty, still a little hope in her eyes which told him that she must be new to Gotham. She waited for him to nod before continuing, “Your nephew is here.” she told him after clearing her throat. 

“My nephew?” He asked confused. 

She nodded back, “Yes sir, in your office.” 

It only clicked as he passed his clip board over to the young woman and sighed, “Make sure they don’t break anything. Most of theses paintings are older than Gotham.” he told her pointedly and closed the door behind him. The museum was not crowded. It was Tuesday morning, too early in the year for field trips and too soon for the grand gala that would be held as soon as the new exhibit was up. Dick quickly walked past the few people roaming around and made his way through the small hallways off of the main floor to the large office tucked away neatly at the end. 

Damian was sitting at his desk, rummaging through the papers in his drawers, not even bothering to look up when Dick came in. “Hey,” he snapped and grabbed the receipts he had in his hand, tucking them away before he shut the door. “Not that drawer.” he told him, and pointed to the others to tell him they were fine. Damian just blinked at Dick and continued with the approved drawers. Dick watched him for minute, his brows drawing close together and he looked over at the clock. It was only 1:15 in the afternoon. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked. Damian shrugged and continued going through his drawers. 

He opened his phone just before it rang. “I have him.” he told Bruce before he had a chance to ask. 

Relief poured through the speaker. “He’s with you?” he asked in a breath as though he had been running around for a while. 

“At my office.” Dick confirmed. “He showed up a few minutes ago.” 

“Good.” Bruce said, the room around wherever he was was loud, he had to be at the office. “Good.”

Dick closed his eyes. He was not about to feel sorry for Bruce, and the way that his voice sounded was not helping him, “Good.” he said exhausted, flattening his temples with his fingers. “I have a new shipment coming in right now. I will bring him back to the manor when everything is tucked away.” 

There was a pause at the end of the line. “You don’t have to-”

“Yeah I know.” Dick sighed. “But it’s fine. I’ve been meaning to stop by and see Alfred anyway.” 

“Dick-” 

“I’ll see you at six Bruce.” and he hung up the phone. 

Damian was watching him, his large eyes curiously observing the way he tucked his phone back into his pocket. Dick wondered what he must be thinking. He wondered why he came here, out of all the places in Gotham, but he didn’t ask. Instead he asked, “Do you like art?” 

“I don’t know.” Damian told him. It was the first time that he’d heard him speak, his voice was less confident than he always seemed. 

“Let’s go see.” he said and motioned for the boy to follow him. 

**-**

The manor looked the same as it always did, but it had been a long time since Dick had come in the regular entrance. He remembered coming here for the first time as a child and how magical it all seemed back then. When he was just a boy from the circus thinking he’d hit the foster father jackpot before he knew that he had been hand selected for a life in the shadows. He wondered how Damian had felt when he was brought here. But he also didn’t want to think about it. He was surprised to see that there were several cars lining the entrance. “Do you know if Bruce was expecting people?” he asked Damian. 

“Isn’t he always?” the boy shot back and they parked in a free spot towards the back. 

They walked up to the front doors together and Dick pushed them open without knocking. The music and chatter hit them instantly and Alfred was there in a flash with a smile and an offer to take their coats. Dick waved him off, took Damian by the arm and had him walk with them to the coat room where they hung their own. “What did I just walk into?” he asked under his breath and Alfred frowned at him. 

“He didn’t tell you?” he asked. 

Dick narrowed his eyes and they walked back toward the grand room. “Tell me what?” he asked. But it only took a moment for him to see the banner hung across the entryway that said, _Support Art._ He closed his eyes and tried not to see red. “Is this… We are having our own… next Friday- why would he?” 

“Dick, there you are!” Margaret exclaimed already rosy cheeked when she came to take him at the elbow and pull him into the party. “I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret from me!" She accused, "And here I thought you were above using your connections.” she pinched him playfully. 

“I am constantly surprised at what exactly I am willing to do.” Dick said as he scanned the crowd until he found the man that he was looking for. “Would you please excuse me Margaret?” he asked and made his way toward Bruce. 

He was laughing in a circle of finely dressed society people looking carefree and young despite the small wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and the small pepper of grey at the tips of his sideburns. This was the man that Dick had thought he was getting as a father, the one that many people still saw as his father. Not the man who trained him and taught him, who made him what he was. Damian was holding onto his elbow where Margaret had let go of him and Dick had to fight the urge not to pull his arm away. He remembered the first time he’d been to one of Bruce's parties. They could be overwhelming. He himself was a little overwhelmed right now. 

Dick pushed into the circle and cleared his throat, forcing an easy smile onto his face. “Bruce.” he said like he wasn’t secretly seething. 

Bruce grinned back at him, “Dick, there you are.” he said as if he had been waiting for him all night. “ How are you?’ 

“Feeling glad I wear a suit to work.” he told him jovially and pat his shoulder a little too hard before addressing the group, “Would you mind if I stole our host for just a moment?” he asked and whisked him away before anyone could say otherwise. He found the closest closed door and pulled him into it, Damian still attached to him. “Will you go find Alfred for me?” he asked him. 

Damian glared, “I can’t know what you are saying?” 

“I promise I will tell you everything I say.” Dick told him, “I just want to say it to your dad first. Deal?” 

Damian looked him in the eye for a full minute before he was satisfied enough to nod and walk off towards the kitchen. Then Dick closed the door. 

“We are in a closet.” Bruce told him as if he were stupid. 

“Well I wasn’t planning on walking into a party so now we have to talk in a closet,” he snapped. 

It was dark but he could still tell that Bruce was rolling his eyes. “Dick.” 

“Don’t ‘Dick’ me.” he told him. “You know we are having a charity gala next week. You know I have been planning this for months-” 

“And you still will.” Bruce promised with his hands up. “This is just a pregame. It won’t affect the success of your gala- if anything it will get the word out to more people.” he told him in a chiding tone, the same one he used to use when he stepped over the line. 

“You should have told me.” Dick said finally. 

“I tried to.” Bruce told him, “You hung up.” 

Dick watched Bruce for a minute. He still seemed so tall to him. When he was a kid he thought Bruce was a giant, now he was just tall and looking unnatural in his suit in crowds of people. “I need a drink.” He grumbled opening the door and walking back into the noise. 

“Dick.” He stopped and look back at Bruce who was still leaning in the closet doorway, “Damian?” 

“He’s fine.” Dick frowned when Bruce did. “All he did was look at art today.”

Damian was waiting for them whenever Dick finished sighing at him and stepped out of the closet. Dick bumped his shoulder and they walked off into the crowd. It was good to see his son finally starting to bond with someone. But he was still unsettled. 

Bruce noticed Tim glance his way briefly before nodding to the couple he was talking to. Alfred offered him a glass of champagne and he took it before joining his middle son. 

“Ah. Mr. Wayne, it has been too long since we've seen you.” He barely managed not to grimace. He didn't remember inviting the Rivards. Ruby was too forward with her interest in his family. She had squeezed Jason's cheek hard in reprimand when he'd rolled his eyes right in front of Bruce and he'd broken his champagne flute trying not to do anything. She'd been removed from all invitation lists that night. 

“It has. I wasn't aware of your interest in the Arts.” She smiled and sipped her wine. 

“To be honest it is more of a curiosity.” 

“Oh?” She glanced to Tim. “I heard that circus child was working at the Museum. Timothy was just telling me about the Gala next week.” 

He felt his smile harden into place. It had been 15 years and some of the older families still disapproved of Dick’s upbringing. “Yes. Dick, ” she winced at his name, “has really revived the museum. I hope you can find it in you to donate. Tim?” he gave one bright smile before guiding Tim away. 

“Thanks. She caught me while I was listening in on a conversation between someone from Blüdhaven and-” Tim stopped for a second, “her.” He nodded to the redheaded woman laughing and patting Dick’s chest. Dick had always been good at social events, ever the performer. 

“I'll be back.” Tim nodded and headed over to the trio. Damian was a glaring shadow next to Dick. 

Facial recognition didn't pick up anything from the Blüdhaven man or the woman still talking to Dick. Tim had dragged Damian off a few minutes ago. They were picking at the hors d'oeuvre table. Tim's eyes flicked to a couple across the table from them as Damian grumbled, mostly to himself since Tim's focus was on the conversation. Bruce sighed, glanced at the screen with Dick and his companion before opening the file. He had hoped to draw them out tonight. 

A security guard from the museum had been found dead in a warehouse by the docks. The police were convinced that he'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. At first he'd agreed. Sometimes bad things just happened in Gotham. But the man had been beaten, likely to his death, and when they searched his home his uniforms and keycard were missing. It turned out the guard used to be a thug for hire. He'd run with almost every minor villain at least once. 

It had been clear that the museum was a target. The gala being the most likely event to be attacked. The event tonight was in hopes that whoever was involved would push up their timeline. Or at least they could earn some intel. Bruce headed back upstairs. He had a speech to give. 

“I'd like to thank everyone for coming out and supporting the rebirth of the Gotham Museum tonight. I've been told there is a Gala next week for the same thing.” He paused for the laughs. “Those of you who know me know how much Gotham means to me. And so having someone so close to me spearheading the push to bring art back to our great city is something of a treat. A round of applause for Dick?” Dick raised his glass, eyes not as amused as his wide smile suggested. “I look forward to seeing each one of you next week at the Gala. I'd also like to announce that the Wayne Foundation will be matching every donation made during the event. Again. Thank you for coming out.” Dick’s face was frozen when he glanced over to him. 

“Hi, Mr. Wayne? Steven Badgley, Blüdhaven Center for Arts and Sciences. I've been meaning to talk to you all night.” 

He smiled and shook the hand shoved at him. Tim stepped forward but Bruce shook his head. “What can I do for you?” 

The man paused. “I've already spoken with your son about this.” He looked over to where Dick was still talking with the red headed woman. “We are displaying one of our most precious works of art for the Gala. It's been in Blüdhaven for longer than the city has existed. One of the founding families brought it over with them from Europe.” he nodded when the man paused. “We aren't exactly equipped to move our pieces. I had hoped that Gotham would help with the transport, but Mr. Grayson said they weren't able to assist. Could you please ask him to reconsider?” 

He put a hand on the man's shoulder and guided him toward the bar. “Wayne Security could transport the piece for you. It wouldn't be much trouble to help out our sister city.” He smiled as the man gushed his gratitude. 

The party started to die down after his speech. The donation checks were cut and the final farewells given as the people left. Ruby Rivard stopped by while he was trying to get Damian to go to bed. The boy was convinced he would miss something or that he wouldn't fetch him before going on patrol. “Such a cute boy.” She cooed, slapping Damian’s face as she greeted them. Bruce was impressed with the boy's restraint. “I will see you at the Gala, Bruce. I'll make sure to bring my checkbook.” he thanked her and watched as she left. 

“That woman is horrid.” Damian grumbled. 

“Yes. She is. Now go upstairs. Tim will be right behind you.” Damian tutted at him but did as he was told. Bruce ushered Tim upstairs a few minutes after. The boy didn't fight it instead looked like he was already forming notes of the conversations he'd heard. 

“That is too much.” He was in his study listening to the last people make their exits when Dick found him. “You can't donate that much. Not from the foundation.” He rubbed his neck and scrolled down the report. 

“It’s not coming from the foundation. I'm using the trust.” 

Dick balked. “But that's your money.” 

He scrolled further down the page. “And it hasn't been used in over 20 years. Trust me. It's fine.” 

Dick stared a minute longer. “I saw you talking to Badgley. What did he want?” Dick sounded irritated again. 

“Wayne Security is handling the transport of their piece for the gala.” He frowned and flipped reports. 

“What?! I told him that all temporary exhibits were responsible for their own transport. The museum can't take on that liability.” 

He glanced up. Dick looked stressed. It was an odd sight to see. Bruce had watched him face down a mutant shark-man with nothing but a batarang without looking the least bit bothered. You aren't. I am. We've transported artwork before. Diana prefers to use us when the museum is being utterly ridiculous. Her words.” 

Dick huffed. “Fine. Who is the contact in Security?” 

He slid over a card. “I've already let her know to expect your call.” He finished replying to the emails he'd gotten during the event and stood. 

Dick hesitated at the door. “Are you patrolling?” he asked.

“Yes.” Tim and Damian had already gone downstairs. 

“I could come. Another pair of eyes.” 

Bruce was shaking his head before Dick had even finished.“It’s just a quick patrol. Go home.” 

Dick didn't look happy, but he rarely did around him lately. 

“Master Dick? Your coat?” Alfred bundled Dick up and guided him to the front. 

**-**

Robin was grumbling through the coms about Nightwing not joining them. Red Robin was halfway through a jibe when his com cut off. He was moving toward his location before Robin noticed the silence. “I'm OK, ” came a shaky voice a second later. He kept moving through the shadows. “My grappler cord broke.” Bruce dropped down into the alleyway Tim was sitting in rubbing his shoulder. “Dumpster broke my fall.” he handed over the grappling gun. “We'll look at it back at the cave. Can you walk?” Tim nodded. “Shoulder took the brunt of the fall.” They headed back to the Batmobile. Robin dropped in a block later. 

“It was cut? I didn't see anyone around.” Tim’s shoulder and upper torso were wrapped, an ice pack tucked in over the darkest bruise. He was working on notes for the Guard’s case. “Could it have gotten cut a while back?” He was pretty sure that it had been done that night, but there was something odd about the ends. They weren't exactly frayed, but weren't cleanly cut either. 

“Damian go through the rest of the gear. We don't want this to happen again.”

**-**

Damian’s school called again on Thursday. He texted Dick during the board meeting. 

**DG:** He is doing his homework in my office.-

Bruce excused himself once the board meeting was over and headed over to the museum. 

“Father?” Damian sounded disappointed when he walked into the office. The woman at the front desk had told him Dick was handling the delivery of one of the final pieces for the Gala the next night. She said she'd call him, but he shook his head and said he was just there to pick up his son. 

“Damian,” he paused. A voice in his head, that sounded suspiciously like Clark, reminded him to notice the boy. “Do you want to show me around? Dick said you got the tour earlier this week.” Damian nodded, looking suspicious, but still headed out. 

“This is the modern art room. Dick was impressed by this painting. I think it looks like someone spilled a bucket of paint.” 

Bruce grinned at the accurate description. “I think Dick is surprised they were able to acquire the painting. The artist is very famous.” Again Damian made a tutting noise and moved on. 

“This is my favorite.” it was a painting of Gotham, all blurred lines and reds, yellows, and greens. It was Robin, he realized after a moment. Damian was still fascinated by the painting. 

“It is very nice.” Damian looked up at him before heading further in, down a hallway with a few paintings. Bruce recognized some of the paintings in the next room. They had been in the museum when he was a child. He walked around Damian who was talking about a few of them. He stopped at a small painting of a boy. 

“Father?” 

He shook off the surprise. “This was your grandmother's favorite painting.” 

Damian’s eyes widened slightly and he eagerly turned to the painting. It wasn't anything special. Just a portrait of a boy. But she would spend hours looking at it. “It looks like me.” Damian said a few minutes later. 

He cleared his throat. “That is what I told her.” 

“Bruce?”

He turned from the painting. Dick was standing at the mouth of the room with a clipboard. “Did you need something?” 

Bruce shook his head. “No. Damian was just showing me around. Are we not allowed here?” 

Dick scoffed. “No this is fine. Just don't go in the exhibit hallway. It's a madhouse right now. Have Margaret come find me before you leave.”

“Grayson is strange.” Damian said as the man in question disappeared down the hall. “He was very angry with you at the party, but not now.” He nodded and pushed Damian’s shoulder toward the next room. “We should tell him about the case.” Damian turned into a side room that had most religious iconography. 

“No. His work and our work is separate. We will involve him if the need arises.” 

Damian pointed to a painting of Angels and Demons before letting out a soft “Tt”.

**\---**

Margaret didn’t come to get him, but Dick hadn’t actually expected her too. Bruce had a bad habit of disappearing that Dick was more used to than most. It still bothered him, but Dick was beyond trying to reason with the enigma that was Bruce Wayne. He finished signing off on the design team and looked around the hall. It was perfect. Everything was set up exactly the way that he had wanted it- _finally_. “Are you okay to lock up?” Margaret asked as she tugged her coat into place.

He waved her off. “Go, I’m just going to look through everything one more time. “ 

She glared at him but smiled. “If you are still wearing that suit tomorrow-” 

“I promise I’ll run home to change.” he grinned at her, letting it slide to the ground when the door shut her out. He hit the lock so that no one could come back in and turned back to the exhibit. The lights were only half on but he could still see how it would look the next evening when everyone was dressed in their finest looking at the new and small piece of light that flooded the dark streets of Gotham. He ran his hand along the bottom of the nearest frame and closed his eyes. The quiet was nice. When Bruce asked him why he went into art, Dick had told him that he was tired of seeing only the ugly things in the world. The truth was that he could deal with the ugly and hard stuff, he just wanted to have a little more time to be in the quiet. 

The door shifted and Dick spun around reaching for the sticks that he knew was in his office and not on his belt. He sprinted soundlessly to the end of the hall, dodging the area that he knew was covered by the security camera in the left corner. He checked the lock- It hadn’t been moved. His shoulders drooped as he relaxed and cursed himself for being so uptight and stomped off to his office to grab his coat and bag. Damian had left the door open when they left. There was a tiny sticky note on his desk with a small sprawl of neat numbers on it. Coordinates and the time of their patrol. Tim had texted him where they would be earlier asking if he wanted to join them but Dick hadn’t been on a family patrol since-He didn’t go on family patrols anymore.

He grabbed his jacket and threw it on, grabbing his bag in a fluid motion as he walked out the door. He needed to get out of there before he convinced himself that people were popping out of the shadows, or worse- they actually did. 

**-**

He spend the first part of the night staring at his phone waiting for some kind of explanation. It was not as though he had gotten an outright promise from any of them that they would be there. But they knew to come, that it would be important to him for them to be there. Tim was the first one to call, “The Titans,” he had started to explain but Dick understood. 

“Go,” he told him, “The exhibit will be up for three weeks.” 

“I promise that I'll come by,” he said already sounding distracted. 

“I know you will.” Dick told him, forcing himself not to sigh. “Good luck.” He said and hung up the phone. 

Barbara texted him a few minutes later. Something about her Dad and her back mushed together but he knew that really she just wasn't used to having to be in a chair. It made her uncomfortable and she couldn't deal with people staring at her. She didn't have to say anything else. He texted her back that it was fine, and really tried to pretend that it was until Steph called and said that she also got stuck with a case. He tried not to be short with her but Dick could feel his night crumbling around him, no one there to witness his first big achievement but two hundred well off strangers and Margaret, when he finally saw a familiar face in the crowd. 

“You look smart.” Diana smiled broadly at him looking as deadly and gorgeous as she ever had in a floor length silver gown that slit just a little too high to be appropriate, but Dick doubted that anyone would say anything about it. She ran a graceful hand down the lapel of his tux and pulled on his bow tie. “Just like your father.” she crooned with a playful smirk and he had to try hard not to cringe at the word. 

“Bruce taught me how to clean up.” he told her easily, grabbing a glass of champagne for both her and himself as the tray passed by. “Well Alfred did,” he corrected himself with a grin. “But Bruce _told_ him to.” He scanned the crowd once again and frowned. He was happy to see Diana. She had been the first to help him when he decided that he was interested in art and artifacts. He’d spent some time with her in London and Paris cataloging and networking, and even sneaking in some late night vigilante watches. But he wasn’t expecting her to be there. And she was. So that meant that Bruce wasn’t. 

Diana frowned when she saw his comprehension click into place. “He wanted to be here.” She told him. 

“He didn’t call.” Dick muttered and turned his attention to Margaret who had just taken a stand half way up the staircase in the middle of the entry way, calling for silence.

“He knew you would be upset.” She whispered as the crown politely applauded whatever she was saying. 

“I wonder what gave him that idea.” He whispered back. That’s why he’d sent Diana, he knew Dick well enough to know that he wouldn't take it out on her. Margaret gave her opening and everyone laughed. He knew he would have to talk soon and shoved down the stir of emotions that wanted to rush up and throw him off. “Are you staying?” he asked clapping with the rest of the crowd. 

She shook her head. “I’m just stopping through.” Margaret motioned his way and the crowed turned pulling him forward with cheers and smiles. Diana smiled widely and kissed his cheek. “I’m proud of you, Richard.” she told him and squeezed him a little too tight before he had to make his own way towards the stairs. 

She was gone by the time he got to Margaret. He searched the crowd one more time for Bruce or Barbara or even Damian before he gave up and forced his smile in place. “Thank you all for coming.” He told the crowd when the cheers died down. “I would also like to thank Bruce Wayne for the very generous donation last week. The Gotham Museum of art and the city of Gotham itself owes a great deal to the Wayne family- and I can honestly say that I, myself, would not be here if not for the kindness that Bruce has shown to me. This has been a very difficult exhibit to track down. So instead of you all standing here and listening to me talk about it, let’s let the art speak for itself.” He raised his glass and the crowd followed suit. 

**-**

He hung up before it could ask him to leave a message. He didn’t call again. He told himself that if Bruce didn’t answer the first time then he couldn’t answer. And Bruce could always get in contact with Dick, especially when he didn’t want him to. He groaned and ran his hand through his hair as he leaned back against the wall. It was empty. Everything was empty and too clean now that the crew had left. He was the last one in the building. Again. He didn’t even know what time it was anymore. He shoved his phone in his pocket and hit the light breaker in the server closet before locking the door behind him. 

Then the doors caved in. 

He didn’t hear it, but he saw it. The small crack wound it’s way across the wide glass panes and then they shattered all at once, flying inwards. He hissed as a few stray pieces sliced across what skin was exposed and found just enough sense in himself to control his fall into an almost roll. Something heavy clattered to the floor. There went the security gate. Dick tried to gather his wits so that he could take the correct action but let his body ultimately decided to duck behind the reception desk until he could regain his balance. 

He waited, listening as several sets of footsteps pushed their way into the hall, crunching over glass and nothing else. They must have disarmed the alarm. That meant that no one was coming. Slowly Dick pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Bruce again, letting it ring as he slipped it back into his coat. He knew that he wouldn't answer, but he would hear the recording and come. 

“That was easy.” A deep bass of a voice grunted. “I’ll never get why they hide expensive things behind glass walls.” 

“It’s a rich people thing, ” said another voice, husky like a smokers. “Something about looking in from the outside or some shit like that.”

“Shut up,” said a third. Hard. He was in command. “We need to be in and out. Boss has the buyer ready and we don’t want to keep him waiting.” They all grunted in agreement and the footsteps moved closer. 

Dick moved quickly, letting his feet slide across the floor so that he wouldn’t shuffle the glass. He watched their shadows move across the floor and then their backs when they moved passed him. They were going towards the new exhibit. He grit his teeth and waited until he could follow. 

Dick looked around the room. He didn’t have his escrima sticks and he didn’t have his comm. He was sure that Bruce's voicemail would be recording all of this, but had no idea when he would actually get it. He bit his lip to keep from cursing before he grabbed the broom that was propped up in the hallway to his office, kicking off the end and cringing when it clattered to the ground. He winced and waited for them to turn back, but the goons were too distracted and their noise covered his.

Dick held the broomstick down to his side and grimaced as he lightly padded in their direction. It was too light to do any real damage but if he focused his force on the end of it he was sure that he could take them. He ran up the stairs three at a time and slide across the shadows until he was perched right outside the grand and exposed doorway of the exhibit they just announced. “This one,” Hard Voice told them, jutting his thumb towards the painting that Badgley had convinced Bruce to bring in for him. Dick scowled, temper flaring. He’d told Bruce not to take any risks and now he was going to be the one liable. 

“Should we use that clay?” asked Husky Voice, a tall bald guy who was missing a few teeth. 

“No,” Hard Voice said again, the shadow covering too much of him for Dick to get a good look. “It’s just bolted to the wall. Hand me the crowbar.”

He waited until they were all looking at the wall to move and ducked into the hallway and behind a large statue that had been donated by Gotham University, but he misstepped and the end of the broom hit the edge with a little thunk. “What was that?” Husky asked and Dick cursed himself for having a second glass of champagne. 

“Check it out.” Hard Voice told one of the others and they went quiet. 

Dick closed his eyes trying to hear them. It wasn’t hard to catch the uneven pacing of their boots against marble as they went separate ways around the square. He flexed the broom, positioning it so that he would have the sturdiest part facing out and slid out silently behind a man with too long, dirty hair that was pulled back in a hair tie, Deep Bass. He took him out with one strike to the lower back of his head and just managed to catch him before he hit the ground. Carefully, he grabbed his rifle and dismembered it, laying it on the ground behind the statue before he ducked under one of the benches in the middle of the room wishing that he had some higher ground. 

Husky came around the corner slowly, his boots moving more carefully that Deep Bass’ had. Dick held his breath as his feet stopped right next to him and rolled out just before the gunshot through the heavy wood above his head. “Shit!” Husky yelled as Dick vaulted the bench and shot again, bullet going through one of the priceless pieces they had unloaded the week before. 

“That was a thousand years old,” he grunted, flying fluidly over him and grabbing his neck with the broom, pulling until he went limp. He let him fall. There wasn’t a point to muffle it anymore now that the gun had gone off and turned away from the piece. He didn’t have time to be upset about it now. 

“Bryce? Gavin?” Hard Voice yelled flying around the corner, but Dick was there to meet him. 

“I’m not in the mood for this today,” he hissed, blocking the fist that came down on him. He fell into a spinning crouch and knocked Hard Voice’s legs out from under him. He hit the floor with a grunt, struggling to jump back up but Dick had already swung the broom down on him, cracking it in half on his head.

He pursed his lips and stayed tense until his body had been limp for a minute before he threw the now useless broomstick to the side. He looked at the thugs. He didn’t want to clean this mess up. He wanted to go home and sleep and be normal for one fucking second of his life- but he knew that he had to tape them up and try to wipe away what evidence that he could. He had to have tape in his office. He kicked the gun away from Hard Voice’s body and rounded the corner of the hall when pain ricocheted through him. 

He grabbed his ringing left ear where the hit had landed and stumbled for the wall but it wasn’t where he left it. His vision was swimming and his head was both loud and too quiet all at the same time. He would have thought he’d gone deaf if it wasn’t for the ringing and the horrible familiar laugh that swarmed over him as the face the haunted his dreams stepped into the moving light. “H-how-” he gasped still holding his head. This wasn’t possible. His lungs had stopped working, pupils dilated from the adrenaline that was keeping him on his knees. He had been there. He had killed him. He had felt the Joker’s skull turn to pulp in his hands. 

Dick’s heart was hammering and fear must have been apparent on his face because when the Joker leaned down to meet him, he was flashing a victorious smile at him that made him want to throw up. “What’s the matter little bird?” He asked in a sticky sweet voice. It was distorted by the the throb in his ear sounding like he was under water. “Daddy not here to save you?” he cackled and stood fast, shoving his boot so hard into his gut that he felt his rib crack as he fell back. 

Dick didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he could if he tried, all air had been forced out of him. 

“Aww,” The man tutted taking lazy steps towards him. He sat on the floor next to Dick with his legs crossed. “That won’t do Dicky.” He giggled, running something cold and hard along his cheek when he tried to get up. A crowbar. There was something sticky on it. He tried not to think about the guard that they usually had coming in around now and hoped that he’d seen the windows and turned back around. “He’s the deal Rich,” he said turning his head with the crowbar so that his right ear was on the floor. He leaned over him and shouted into his throbbing ear. “I want to know where daddy is!” Dick cringed and his hand flew up, shoving him away and he turned onto his hands and knees. He poised himself to spring up when the crowbar caught him at the ankles and he hit the ground again, shouldering the fall. 

The Joker skipped toward him and stomped him back down to the ground. “Wanna let me hear that pretty voice?” He asked, into his good ear, foot holding him hard to the ground. “I want to hear you sing all of the agonizing things I said when you held _me_ to the ground. Remember that Ricky? Remember how much I begged you to let me go.” Dick squeezed his eyes shut. How much of this did Bruce’s voicemail hold. Was it still going? It couldn’t be. Would he be on his way now? He looked around for anything that could help him. One end of the broomstick looked just out of reach but he stretched for it anyway, unable to stop his cry of pain when a knife went through his palm and held it to the ground. 

“Now I’m gonna ask you that question again, Big Bird.” The Joker told him, shifting his weight as he pulled the knife out of his hand and flipped him over. His face was so close to Dick’s that he could almost see it clearly. Almost but not quite. He scratched his chin with the blade and leaned over him. “I’m gonna ask it _real_ slow and I want you to answer me.” He placed the knife under his chin and pushed his face upward. “Where is the Batman?” 

Dick watched him. He forced his gaze to turn from horrified to defiant. He thought about telling him to fuck off or that he wasn’t there. He thought about asking The Joker how he was there and how he had found him, but Dick knew that that was what he wanted. He wanted Dick to talk, and if the Joker wanted him to talk, then he wasn’t going to say a word.

He clamped his lips together defiantly and The Joker smirked at him, amused. “If that’s what you want,” he told him and Dick tried hard not to yell when he drove the knife into his shoulder. 

**-**

He didn’t remember passing out. He didn’t remember waking up. All he knew was that it was still dark, only now the alarm was sounding full force. Dick cursed and sat up only to fall quickly back down. His head was ringing. His lip cut open. His shoulder was bleeding and probably dislocated. He had at least one broken rib and his left eardrum was definitely blown out. His pinky and ring finger on his left hand were bent in a disgusting way, but the worst of it was the deep cut along his appendix line that was still slowly bleeding out.

Dick had to think. If the alarm was going off then the cops had to be on their way. He needed to get out of there before the cops found him on the floor. He sat up more slowly and patted what was left of his coat until he found the pocket. He had twentysix missed calls from Bruce. 

“Dick, I’m sorry I-” 

“I…” he groaned as the dry blood that was scabbing his lip cracked and his voice rang in his head. He pushed himself onto his feet and fell back to his knee. “Where are…” 

“I’m almost to museum.” he told him. 

Dick tried to get to his feet but he slipped and hit the ground hard again. He’d bled more than he thought. This was bad. “Hall,” he told Bruce sharply. “Can’t… move.”


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Bruce hated hospitals.

He'd been heading to Leslie's when Dick started seizing, so he turned and pulled to a jerky stop in the entrance to the closest hospital. The seizures had stopped by the time he rounded the car. He picked up Dick as carefully as he could. Bruce knew there were things he shouldn't be doing, that he was probably making something worse- but he had to get Dick inside. It was all he had been able to think of. 

The man in question was hooked up to so many machines. His heartbeat steady and calming. There was a picture of him carrying Dick into the hospital on the cover of the newspaper. He hadn't even noticed the camera. He hadn't been able to focus on much more than the shaky breath on his chest. 

Alfred had come and found him in the waiting room standing in blood-stained clothes. He wasn't sure what to do. This was Dick, not Nightwing, in the hospital. Dick who had sounded so angry at him as he almost died. He let Alfred move him into a restroom and managed to turn enough of his brain back on to change himself. Tim and Damian were sitting at a bank of chairs when they left the room. Alfred tutting over the collar on Bruce's shirt like he always did when he was stressed. 

That had been too many hours ago. Hours of watching the machine, waiting to see what happened when, not if, Dick woke up. The nurse came by and checked the numbers and gave Bruce a practiced smile as she left. He brushed his fingers through the curls Dick never managed to get rid of and sighed. 

“Bruce.” He dropped his hand. Tim was at the door. “Alfred says you should go home. Shower. Eat.” Bruce shook his head. “I'll stay with him. I'll call if anything happens.” His middle son put a hand on his shoulder. “Go home.” He nodded and stood. “I parked in the underground garage. There are no cameras.” He took the keys Tim closed his fingers around. 

Alfred subtly followed him around the manor as he showered and changed again. Damian was less subtle. He practically glued himself to Bruce's leg as they moved. The only time he wasn't within 2 inches of his person was when he took a shower and, even then, he sat on the toilet and talked about some show Dick had told him about. Tim sent him a text about an hour after he left that everything was fine and the nurse had just left. He sighed and headed downstairs. Barbara had informed him that she'd pulled the security footage and sent it over to the main computer. 

Whatever had broken the window also took out almost all of the cameras. He saw a few seconds of Dick’s fight with one of the men before it went black. Damian made a noise as Dick was dragged on screen. He couldn't see the man pulling him clearly, then he stopped and pulled out a knife. The man turned and looked straight at the camera. His permanent smile widened as he slashed Dicks abdomen. There was a quick wave to the camera before he pulled the fire alarm and skipped back into the blind spot. The feed cut off with Dick bleeding. 

“Was that the Joker?” Damian asked. 

Bruce rewound the footage, something seemed off. Something wasn't right. He rewatched the last seconds over and over, but couldn't figure out what was drawing him to the quick wave the Joker gave as he walked off screen. 

“Let's head back to the hospital.”

Tim and Damian went home at the end of the day. Tim guided a drowsy Damian through the halls. The doctor had said that the swelling had gone down and now they were just waiting for Dick to wake up. Bruce stayed even though he was itching to go and release his worry on the criminals of Gotham. 

“B? What are you doing here?” he flashed back to Dick waking up after a night terror. It had been one of the first nights that Alfred wasn't there to bail him out. The boy’s eyes had been red rimmed and wide. They were just as lost now as Dick looked at him. “Where am I?” he asked eyes flicking around the room. 

“You were attacked at the museum.” he leaned forward and pressed the call button. The nurse stepped in as Dick frowned. 

“Hi. How are you feeling?” she called the doctor after Dick answered. “He should be right in.” she stepped out as another nurse called her. 

“Where were you?”

He knew that was coming, he just didn't expect it to be the first question. “There was a break in at Wayne Tech.” He'd been watching the Gala with Damian when Tim had called, then Lucius a few minutes after that on his cell. 

Dick stared at him, like he wasn't sure if he believed him or not. “You should have let that Joker die when you had the chance.” With that stab through his defenses, the doctor walked in. 

**-**

Dick was healing well. He'd be out of the hospital before the end of the week and he refused to let Bruce in him room. Tim sent regular updates. Damian sat with him in the Batcave when he wasn't at the hospital. The boy seemed as lost as he did. There had to be something in the Wayne DNA that made physical contact unfathomable. 

There wasn't any evidence left at the scene. Other than way too much of Dick’s blood. He had walked through the museum looking for the usual signs of the Joker. The man always left some calling card, sometimes literally. But there wasn't anything other than the video footage. It was strange. Didn't feel right. But nothing felt right with any of his people injured. 

**-**

Alfred and Damian were at the hospital. Bruce was watching the docks, where they had found the last solid clue. Red Robin was a few buildings down. There was a drug deal going on below them and, while it wasn't what they had come for, the city still needed protecting. He gave the signal and they moved. He watched Red Robin take down three men with one swoop and felt that bubble of pride well up in him. Any time he watched the boys fight, saw them grow into their own styles, he couldn’t help it. He watched Tim for a second longer then was back in the fight. They weren't organized or trained so it didn't take long for them to dispatch and secure the men. He finished tying their leader, a small time dealer that had dreams of growing his crew, and straightened as he heard Tim's voice. 

“I've got some stuff I need to take care of at home.” Tim was on the phone standing a few feet away, where he wouldn't be overheard by the men, but could still keep an eye on them. “I know. This is important. It's Dick.” Tim's eyes flicked to Bruce's. “I will. You too.” He hung up and seemed to brace himself. 

“Titan business?” 

Tim nodded. “Superboy. They can handle it.” He could tell Tim expected him to say more, but instead he activated a tracker and dropped it on the dealer, it would notify the police. 

**-**

Sometimes Bruce swore Alfred had powers because by the end of the week Dick was back in his room at the manor. It was a surprise because the last he'd heard from Tim was Dick had only wanted to go back to his apartment. Even though Dick was angry with him, he still felt better having him close. With Dick recovering and back at the manor, it meant that they weren't splitting their time between the manor and hospital and he could take both Robins on patrol.

“I've got a runner.” Robin called over the comm.

“I'll cut him off.” Red Robin responded. He wasn't that far from the pair. He turned and headed toward the chase. He saw Damian leap across an alley. He moved across the rooftops with the same ease Dick had when he had been Robin. He didn't have Dick’s flair, he doubted anyone would, but he was just as fearless. Damian was tenacious and, even though he was pursuing someone who was easily twice his size, the boy was keeping up. The figure turned and leapt down. Bruce followed the chase, closing the distance as an unease crept up his spine. This seemed familiar. Robin racing rooftop to rooftop. Damian closed the distance between the two. A building blocked his view as he leapt across an alley. 

“Robin!” he shouted as he landed. Bruce jerked forward. The boy was falling. The figure was standing at the edge of the rooftop, watching him fall. He'd never get there in time. He moved forward anyway. The man turned and ran. 

“These guys hate my shoulder,” Red Robin said through the comm. He stopped at the edge and looked down to see Red Robin hanging from his grappling gun with Robin tucked against his chest. “I think it's dislocated this time. Some help?” Bruce didn't hesitate as he lowered the pair the rest of the way to the ground. 

He knew now why he had been uneasy. During one of his first patrols with Jason they had been after a robber who had managed to hide on one of the nearby roofs. Jason had been relentless as he chased him across Gotham’s buildings. A faulty fire escape had been all it took for the man to get away. He could still hear Jason's startled yelp when the metal dropped away from the brick and mortar. He hadn't thought he would make it in time when he had fired his grappler, but he'd jumped anyway. He'd barely caught Jason's wrist before hitting the wall. The fire escape crashed to the ground a second later. Jason had looked up at him and smiled before laughing hysterically. Bruce had felt his own relieved smile as he pulled them back up onto the roof.

“He grabbed my grappler off my belt and pushed me.” Damian was fuming as he paced through the Batcave, reporting what had happened. Tim's shoulder was wrapped and iced again, but he was still typing up a report, more efficient with one hand than Dick and Damian had ever been with both. “Then Drake caught me.” Damian’s glare lessened at that as he looked at the boy in question. 

“You're heavier than you look.” Tim replied without looking away. Damian’s scowl returned. “Did you see what the man looked like?” 

Damian shook his head. “He had a bandana over his face.” 

“Why were you chasing him?” Tim asked. 

“He landed on the fire escape across from me. Then he ran. So I followed.” 

Bruce held back a sigh. Tim snorted. Whatever gratitude Damian had for Tim saving his life disappeared and the boy snarled as he started on his diatribe about striking fear into all evil doers hearts. Bruce changed out of his suit and headed upstairs to check on Dick.

**\---**

The first punch Dick had ever thrown had been just before his parents died. Some of the other circus kids had been playing a little while away from the tent. They had set up close to town and some of the kids from the local middle school down the road decided to come and look at the ‘Circus Freaks’. He remembered them pushing down one of the small kids asking him what he did for his act- that’s when Dick stepped in. His father had been disappointed. His mother was more understanding. She cleaned up his purple eye and iced his fist after his father’s speech, waiting for him to leave the room to cup his cheek and tell him that fists were weapons-and he’d better think about the consequences before he bared them.

Dick had handled tons of weapons. He was well trained. He could shoot straight through a target's head and have the gun dismantled on a table in less than a minute. He had handled swords and knives as long as his forearms, so sharp that they could slice straight through a man’s torso and he wouldn’t fall apart until he tried to walk forward. He had held bazookas and basically driven a sporty black tank- but Bruce always told him that his hands would be his most useful weapon. 

He guessed that he should have taken those warnings a little more seriously, but he just never really thought about it until he felt a skull break in his hands. 

Dick was on his feet before he was fully awake. He was on his knees a second later. He hadn’t noticed that Bruce was there, but relaxed instantly when his hands grabbed him around the waist and helped him back onto the edge of the bed. He held his left side and grimaced waiting for the pain to subside with his eyes squeezed shut. When he was sure that he wasn’t going to fall apart, he breathed as deeply as his ribs would let him and finally looked at Bruce. 

He was hovering. It would be funny if it wasn’t so annoying. He had been sending Tim in almost everyday to spy on Dick and was always hanging around the doorway at night when he thought Dick was asleep. Dick thought about asking him what he was doing out there, but settled for the strange updates that Damian brought in when they watched movies or he updated them on the family’s missions. Alfred would ask him personal questions and then not so personal questions and a few invasive questions that he answered knowing they would be going straight back to Bruce. And that was enough. At least Dick was going to keep telling himself that. It was as Dad-like as Bruce had ever been with him, which was to say an unemotional, older brother like concern after he hit you too hard and didn't want you to tell on him.

Bruce looked back at him for only a minute before he broke eye contact and cleared his throat. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

Dick would have said something sarcastic but he didn’t really have anything smart to say. Was he okay? No he wasn’t. “I’ll get back to you on that.” He said softly so that he could avoid moving too much. He waited but Bruce didn’t say anything. 

After a moment of nothing he moved for the door. “Okay. I was just checking in.” he said hesitating in the doorway. 

But Dick didn’t want him to go. He hadn't actually seen him since their first visit at the hospital, and after that Tim spent every day there telling him what an ass he was and how he needed to cut Bruce some slack. “How was the ‘appointment’?” he asked using air quotes and smirking while Bruce stared at the ground. Tim was right, he hated when he was right. 

“Who told you?” he scowled. 

“Damian.” he said scooting back towards the wall and gasping a little. “A little help?” he asked and Bruce was there in a second, scooting him back and then perching on the side of the bed. 

“Have you taken anything?” he asked. 

“It makes me tired,” Dick waved him off, “You shouldn’t tell Damian not to tell me things, it just makes him want to tell me more.” 

Bruce frowned at him in disapproval. “How much has he told you?” 

“He’s told me that you told him not to tell me anything.” Dick shrugged and regretted it when Bruce got off the bed and grabbed the prescription bottle off of the nightstand. He poured two into his hand and held it out to him. He didn’t want to take it. If he took it he would fall asleep again. But he took them anyway, swallowing them dry, hen he opened his mouth so that Bruce could see that he took them. Bruce rolled his eyes at him and headed towards the door again. Dick frown, chest tightening slightly as he watched him walk off, but he didn't know how to ask him to stay like he had when he was eleven and having bad dreams. “You can come back later if you want.” he said rolling onto his right side facing the wall. He took the door staying open as an okay. 

**-**

Dick was bored. 

Margaret had all paperwork sent to him in the mornings and he was happy to have something to do. Laying around all day was starting to drive him slowly insane. But after all of the phone calls there was still never enough to do. Damian was always around though. Every time that Dick turned around Damian was there, silently watching him as though he were waiting for him to do something crazy. The weirdest part to Dick was that he actually seemed to enjoy watching him- like he was interesting. Damian didn’t talk a lot. Mostly all he said to him were mission updates which he would give to him after rushing up from the cave not wanting him to miss out on anything. “He looks up to you.” Tim told him when he mentioned it, like it was something obvious. 

“He doesn’t know me.” Dick told him incredulously. “How can you look up to someone you don’t know.” 

Tim sighed and put his book down. “Dick,” he looked at him like he was stupid. Tim was always looking at him like he was stupid. Dick threw his pill container at him but he just caught it. “You. Are. Robin.” he said each word slow. 

“We all are.” He shrugged, “Or have been at some point.” 

“Yes but _you_ -” Tim shook his head and threw the pills back at him, “Dick, you are _the_ boy wonder. The first Robin. You should hear the way that Bruce talks about you sometimes. Nothing has ever run as smoothly for him as when you were his right hand guy.” He leaned back in his chair looking like he had been keeping that in for a while. “I mean when I first put on the cape all I could think about was if I trained really hard that, maybe someday, I could be a better Robin than you.” He smiled a little embarrassed at Dick who just blinked at him. He didn’t know what to say. He had never really thought about that. “My point is,” Tim said finally, “We all look up to you. So just… spend a little time with him. Okay?” 

Damian came up to report on their patrol at around one, but Dick had waited up knowing that he would be there. He had been sleeping so much anyway that he was never really tired anymore just restless and wishing that he could go out again. Damian stopped short of coming in when he realized that he was still up and looked at him for permission. That was probably the first truly endearing thing that Dick ever saw him do. “Come in,” he said nodding at him and Damian stepped through the doorway. He opened his mouth to start riddling off his report but Dick kept talking. “Do you like movies?” he asked. 

Damian frowned. “No, ” he told him but it sounded like he was just saying it to say it.

Dick smirked. “Have you seen a lot of movies?” he asked. 

Damian pouted towards the floor. “No.” 

Dick scooted a little painfully over in the bed and pat it with his good hand. “Kid, I’m going to teach you how to live.” 

So they watched movies. Movies and horrible old cartoons that Tim got way too into and had Damian mocking him mercilessly. And Dick had to admit that he was almost happy to be there, in this house with his kids again. Not exactly his brothers, but something like that. Something that only being in a loud house filled with life could really bring out of you. He thought that the loudness might bother him, but then the danger passed and Tim went in to check on the Titans and Bruce took Damian away on business for a few days, making everything too quiet. 

He was exploring the hallways when he spotted the piano lying untouched in the corner. He looked around at the empty space and padded barefoot over to it, rocking back on his heels as he lifted the key cover. He played the open to nocturne badly and the wall opened up to reveal a trapdoor with a pole that lead down to the cave. Dick grinned. He used to love using this entrance. It made him feel like a firefighter which always seemed so much cooler than being Robin for some reason. He gripped the pole carefully with his right hand and swung his leg around it, letting himself drop off. It wasn’t too painful anymore, just uncomfortable. The most pain he had was in his ribs, but that was only when he stretched too far. Even his fingers had set enough to just be taped together. The cave lit up as he touched the ground and he watched everything come to life as he walked forward. It felt like coming home after college, all familiar and a little chilly but fresh and exciteing. 

He avoided the weapons wall because he had promised Alfred that he would be good while Bruce was away. Instead he turned to the main computer and sat down in the big chair that used to swallow him when he was a kid. He browsed through a couple of files. Only reports and some persons of interest and a file marked Museum footage. 

Dick swallowed hard and clicked it trying to fight down the small chill that ran up his spine. “This isn’t a big deal,” he told himself as he pulled up the clip and saw that his assumption was correct when he appeared on screen. He watched a little bit of his fight with the three idiots and cringed when he saw himself fall backwards onto the screen. He allowed himself to be horrified as he watched the attack the first time. But then he pushed it down. He watched it four more times before he couldn’t anymore and froze the screen on a shot of the Joker looking straight at the camera. Dick leaned back in the chair and looked at the face. Now that he wasn’t disoriented he could see that this wasn’t the Joker. At least not the one that he remembered. Not the one that he- 

He pulled up the criminal data base and started a face scan. 

“I guess you’re feeling better,” he turned the chair lazily and smirked at Bruce all wrapped up in a suit like he had actually gone to do business. 

“I’m alive.” he grinned as Bruce came closer then examined the computer. Dick used that time to examine him. He looked tired and tall. He had always looked tall, but Dick sometimes forgot just how much space he took up. It was no wonder that he had no problem commanding the attention of board rooms. “You, on the other hand don’t look so hot.” 

Bruce gave him a look and Dick held up his hands. “What are you looking for?” he asked but Dick knew he didn’t need to answer, the footage was still in the corner of the screen. If there was one good thing about Bruce it was that he never invaded your thoughts. He waited for things. Sometimes he waited too long. But even when he was mad at him, Dick always felt more at ease when Bruce was around. “You shouldn’t be looking at this.” he said and minimized the screen, “You’re too close to it.” 

“Which makes me the best guy to look into it.” Dick told him turning back to the screen. It was still scanning faces. “Besides, you shouldn’t have to deal with this. It’s my museum. My case.” 

“No it’s something that almost killed you.” Bruce told him, a little heat in his voice. “It’s a family matter now.” 

“I haven’t been a part of this family in a very long time, Bruce.” Dick sighed suddenly feeling very tired. He didn’t want to talk about this, it was one of the unsaid things. 

“It’s not something you can just leave.” Bruce told him with a little growl to his voice and turned him back around. His eyes were stone, sealed resolve and focus pointed violently in his direction, but Dick didn’t flinch. “You can’t… I know that… Things have been weird since,” he halted not wanting to say it. Jason. Dick knew that’s what he wanted to say, but neither of them had spoken about him for years. What happened to Jason had been the start of the end for them, and then with Damian came Dick knew that he wouldn’t be able come back again if the same thing happened. 

He stared at Bruce’s chest, not wanting to look him in the face. “Can you help me back upstairs?” he asked. He didn’t really need the help but he didn’t care and Bruce didn’t ask, he just put a hand under his good arm and helped him out of the chair. 

Bruce focused on not gripping Dick’s injured side instead of the warm body pressed against him. He took in the man’s profile as they climbed. He was in more pain than he let on. It seemed to be the norm for them. He hadn't noticed how much Dick had been hurting after Jason, hadn't seen it through the haze of his own pain. He'd seen Dick’s reaction when he had thought Tim had been taken by the Joker, but it wasn't until he'd walked in to Dick kneeling over the barely dead body that he realized just how much he'd missed. Bruce wasn't going to miss it again. Back then, Dick was already gone when they managed to bring the Joker back. He'd told Dick, but he wasn't sure that Dick had believed him, wasn't even sure Dick wanted to believe him. They hadn't really seen Nightwing since. Instead Dick hung around the mansion on the occasional weekend and got to know the two boys that way. He spoke for hours to Alfred. Even before this latest period of avoidance, Dick hadn't been spending much time around Bruce. 

Dick headed toward the kitchen once they were on the main level. He slipped out of Bruce's hands easily. He always managed to do that. If Bruce was a shadow, Dick was a cloud of smoke- always there until you tried to touch it. He stared after the young man, posture stiff but steady. He heart throbbed as he watched him leave again. In his more morose moments, Bruce pictured a bottle on his shelf. And in that bottle held a single wisp of smoke. Somehow he had managed to keep that small thread, but if he pulled off that top, if he let that wisp out he'd be losing what little he had. So Brice kept that bottle shut. Didn't push. Let things stay the way they were. Or else he'd manage to finally lose Dick for good. 

- _Batman_ \- his JL comm chirped. 

He headed back downstairs and slid into his suit before answering the call. A grim Diana was facing him. “I know you have an important case right now. But we could use your help figuring this out.” 

He knew that she wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important. He nodded. “I can patch into the Watchtower from here.” She nodded and the screen cut off. 

**-**

The rest of the week was spent flipping between Patrol, the Joker case, helping the Justice League, and Wayne Industries. The last one took up more time than Bruce was used to. The break in had somehow leaked to the press and now the stockholders were grumbling. Normally he'd step back on patrols since Tim was here and let the two Robins handle them, but with the suspicious nature of both Tim and Damian’s near mortal falls, he didn't feel comfortable letting them out by themselves. Instead Tim healed his injured shoulder from the Batcave while Damian and himself watched over Gotham. 

He pushed Tim toward the manor staircase. The boy had reworked their file system and created a program to cross reference all Joker cases. The computer was now working on processing the data. “I can stay. There might be-” 

Bruce turned him back to the he stairs. “Sleep. The data will be there in the morning.” Red Robin would be back on patrol the next night. He knew the boy wanted to make sure there was somewhere for them to go, something important to chase. But it was almost dawn. It wasn't the right time. After he was sure that Tim had gone upstairs he pulled open the JL case. The case kept expanding. He'd been working on it for days and didn't think he was any closer to settling anything. 

“When was the last time you slept?” he barely held back the jump of shock. He had just been reading a particularly long winded coroner's report and he figured he could close his eyes for a second. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep, he glanced at the clock, for 2 hours. 

“When was your gala?” he replied back without thinking. He'd slept since then, but not much. And not well. 

“Bruce.” he looked over to his former ward. “If Tim needs sleep. So do you.” Normally he'd put up more of a fight, but the thought of continuing the report had him nodding and standing. Dick pulled his arm over his shoulder. “I'm surprised Alfred didn't do this days ago.” 

He chuckled, mostly to himself. “He did. But there was a robbery.” 

Dick laughed, though he didn't know why. “Only you would sound happy that a robbery kept you from a nap.” 

He leaned more than probably necessary as they walked through the house. “I’m fine.”

Dick chuckled. “You said that after getting thrown off a bridge. I think your definition of fine is a little skewed.” 

Bruce shrugged. He couldn't argue with that. “I miss this,” he said softly. He missed having a companion. Damian was his son and more of a child than any of his Robins had been. Tim was too much like himself. There was a respect between them, but the respect of a mentor-ship. Jason had been too angry, too scared, just too much for them to really bond. Before his death Bruce felt like they had been getting somewhere, were becoming more than just Batman and Robin. The Joker had seen to that. And he was trying to do it again. 

“Bruce.” he jerked back to the present. They were at his bedroom door and he was gripping Dick’s waist too tightly. “Are you okay?” Dick repeated the question, but it felt like he was asking something else. 

“I’m… Fine.” 

The boy sighed. “Sleep.” Dick insisted before he pulled away, nodding to the door in front of him. 

**-**

“I'm needed off-world.” he looked around the kitchen table. Damian was sneaking bacon to the dog. Tim’s nose was practically submerged in the coffee cup in his hands. Dick was the only one actually eating his breakfast. They all three looked at him. “Dick is healed. You three can take care of the city.” Bruce had been telling himself that for the last 6 hours but it didn't make him feel any better. 

“B I can't-” Dick started. He was pleading with his eyes. 

Bruce suspected he knew why he was hesitant. He didn't want to be responsible if something happened. “You'll be fine. Stay together and keep an eye out.” he felt like he was going off to war. “If you need anything contact the Watchtower.” he'd install a dedicated line to his JL coms if he thought he could get away with it, but there wasn't enough time. 

Damian was watching Dick who softly croaked an okay and nodded. The boy turned back, “Bring me a souvenir.” Bruce couldn’t quite hold back the smile. 

**-**

“This was not the plan,” he shouted, dodging another blast. They'd been pinned down for the last 26 minutes. He could see the Javelin, but only in between energy bursts. 

“Tell them that,” Clark shouted back from across the room. He dodged and hit one of the guns with his heat vision. 

“As far as plans go, this wasn't the most-” Barry's comm cut off for a moment as he knocked a row of men over. “-sophisticated.” Barry was back to them a second later. He leaned against the pillar across from him. They needed to end this soon, the speedster would be running on empty soon. 

“Not all plans need to be complicated.” 

“Disarm them and don't die?” Barry said gruffly, Bruce assumed it was meant to be an imitation of his voice. It sounded nothing like him, but drew a laugh out of Superman. Barry looked smugly over to him. 

“That is the basis of any good plan.” Clark chimed in a few seconds before he landed behind them. 

“Yeah! The basis! That was our entire plan.” Barry sucked in a deep breath and darted out into the fray. Clark straightened his shoulders and was gone. He hated being stuck here, but he couldn't lose connection, and every time he tried to move he was forced back behind the pillar by a few well placed phaser bursts. 

Bruce could feel them closing in. But Barry and Clark were focused on doors and keeping the numbers from overwhelming them. The program only had a minute left. He shifted from behind the pillar he was hiding behind to check on the other two. It took him an extra second to locate Barry, but that was all it took. His shoulder screamed at him as he was shot. The energy weapon was like nothing they had seen before. It had even made Clark wince when he'd been shot at the start of the ambush. He fell back against the pillar, back in temporary cover. It felt like his arm had been torn off. He reached for a weapon when he heard heavy steps closing in, but his fingers couldn't grip anything, spasms of pain sparked through him. The weapon powered up as the alien stepped around the pillar. 

“Clark, ” he muttered, black beginning to encroach on his vision. He saw the alien go limp before red and blue overtook his quickly narrowing field of vision. 

**-**

He woke up back on the ship. His shoulder was wrapped each breath was a stab of pain. Bruce looked around without moving and saw Clark, back to him checking a monitor. “You almost died.” Clark sounded tired. “The mission was completed.” Clark said it like it pained him that the mission took priority. 

“Barry?” 

Clark ran a hand through his hair before responding, “Sleeping. Had to shock you a couple times while we were fighting our way back to the ship.” Bruce shifted and the pain ran down his entire side. “You’re going to take this in the worst way, but maybe you should stay on Earth for a while? I know how much the Joker case has gotten under your skin. You say it's not affecting you, but I think it is. But mainly because I don't know how I would have been able to tell the boys you'd died.” Clark looked so defeated as he said it. He wanted to fight the observation, but Clark knew him better than anyone outside Alfred. He wouldn't have said anything unless it had truly been a genuine fear. 

“Maybe you are correct.” Clark’s eyes jumped to his in surprise. “Dick had to help me to bed last week. Maybe I have spread myself a little thin.” 

Clark had a twinkle to his eyes. “He _helped_ you to bed?” Bruce groaned. Clark jerked forward to check him for injury. He smirked when Clark met his eyes and realized he was messing with him. “I hate you.” 

He smiled freely in response. “That's what you get for abusing your knowledge.” 

Clark just shrugged and settled into a chair by the bed. It looked like it was meant for a child. He straightened the blankets, fidgeting like he always did when someone was injured. Like he needed something to do, like he could fix it somehow. “You like having someone know your secrets. Admit it.” He rolled his eyes as Clark laughed. He yawned and let his head fall back to the pillow. “It’s not the worst thing,” admitted as he fell asleep. 

He drifted in and out as they traveled back to Earth. Clark and Barry took turns sitting with him. Barry played Go Fish with him and cackled when he got away with lying and won the game a few turns later. Clark worked on an article he had due when they got back. He asked a few random questions, but mostly worked. Although the pain from his shoulder was nearly constant it was almost peaceful. 

" _We should be entering communications range within the hour._ " Barry’s scratchy voice came over the loudspeaker. 

Clark had just brought him food down from the bare galley they'd installed a few months after their first deep space mission. Bruce grimaced at the over-sized bowl of jello. “I know how much you love wiggly food.” Clark shook the plate to make the blue cubes dance. 

- _Batman! We need you. He took Robin._ \- 

He dropped the bowl of jello. Clark held him down against the bed. “You can't do anything. We're still hours away.” he stopped struggling, he took a deep breath. To settle his now racing heart and to ease the pain that was raging beneath his skin just from that outburst. He let go of Clark's elbow and laid back against the bed. Clark watched him for a few seconds before slowly sitting back down. 

- _Batman! We need you. He took Robin._ \- Tim’s mechanical voice stated again. He grit his teeth against the pain that had nothing to do with his injury. Tim sounded too calm. When things got really bad, Tim was always the level headed one. 

" _Sorry! It's being broadcasted every 2 minutes. I silenced it._ ” Barry said over the comm. 

Bruce closed his eyes. They had been gone for over a week. When had he been taken. How long had he had him? He shouldn't have left. He had known. He'd felt it, but they hadn't seen any signs that the Joker was going to do anything else. “I can't do it again.” he said softly. 

Clark pat his hand. “You'll get him back.” Bruce looked at his oldest friend and wanted to believe him, but he'd lost a Robin before. And this helpless feeling trying to swallow him whole felt too similar. 

“Oh, God." he breathed when another thought hit him. "Dick.”


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

It happened so fast.

“Loop around,” Dick barked at Tim through the comm as he ducked the bat that swung at him and shouldered a blow to the right. His joints were still sore, but it felt good to be moving no matter how reluctant he had been to lead them out on watch. His body needed the fight and the city had needed them. Damian came down on the man he had shoved away, leaving Dick to yank the bat from the other’s hand, taped fingers screaming at him through his glove. With a spinning kick he knocked him to the ground and used the heel of his boot to make sure he stayed there. He turned on Damian and the other man, throwing one of the sticks off his back to take the man’s feet away from the ground. 

His face hit the floor with a crack and Damian threw his batarang at Dick with a growl. “That one was mine!” he whined looking more like a child than he had ever seen. 

Dick just grinned and grabbed the stick from the ground, clicking it easily back onto his back. “You took too long.” he told him and tossed him the bat before they took off towards their rendezvous point. 

Tim wasn’t there but Dick wasn’t worried yet. He would have heard if he'd had any trouble, Tim was good about that. He looked at his watch and then around the alley they had stopped in. They were outside of the museum. His museum. He frowned. Dick wanted to peek around the side and see if they had fixed the windows but he knew better. He hadn’t been back since…

“Dick!” his face shot up to the roof where Tim was dangling from one hand, his other arm gripped in a sickeningly white hand. 

“Hello Rich.” The Joker grinned a bloody smile down at them. Dick had to grab Damian around the waist to keep him from scaling the wall. The Joker pulled Tim up so that his face was right next to his, “Did you miss me?” he started cackling in a way that made Dick’s skin crawl. He hadn’t been expecting to see him again so soon, but he had his suit now.He had weapons. He was more prepared. 

He squeezed Damian a little harder than he meant to. “What do you want?” he barked at him. 

He stopped laughing. “What is the flock doing out without Papa?” he countered pulling Tim higher and holding him away from the building. 

Dick locked eyes with him and set his jaw. He wasn’t going to let him intimidate him. He was in charge and he wasn’t losing a bird. He wouldn’t do that the Bruce again. “Put him down.” he growled at the man, his entire body was shaking and Damian was kicking him in the side trying to get him to let go of him. He shook him a little as he pulled him up tighter. “Put him down and then we can talk.” 

The Joker wasn’t smiling. “Down?” he repeated and Dick was surprised to see that his voice was deeper than he thought it was going to be when it was serious. He turned his intense stare to Tim, holding him out further from the wall. “Bye Bye Birdy.” he hissed and then he let go. 

And Dick just reacted. He let go of Damian and sprinted towards the point where Tim was falling. Yanking his both sticks off of his back, he took 2 quick steps up the wall. He jumped out and up and shoved the ends together, hitting a button on the side to make them extend until it hit both walls and held him mid air right where Tim fell. He swung off and caught him, holding them both six feet from the ground. “You good?” has asked Tim. 

“Yeah,” he huffed. “Let me go.” Dick dropped him and swung around and stood on the pole. The Joker wasn’t on the edge anymore. 

“Where is Damian?” Tim asked. 

No. 

He grabbed the pole and loosed it, using it to vault upwards so that he could spring off the wall before he tore them back appart. Why couldn’t he just stay put? Why had he insisted on keeping him by his side? If Damian had been with Tim- he would have been dropped off a building. But Dick couldn’t do this again. He had to be just feet in front of him. He flew over the lip of the roof and landed with a hard roll. “Nightwing!” Damian shouted from several feet in front of him, being dragged by the hood towards an approaching helicopter. The Joker turned to look at him and grinned before turning back to the copter and running. 

Dick sprinted after him, he heard Tim yell something behind him but he couldn’t take the time to look. He was gaining on them, there was a fifteen foot gap between them and The Joker was running out of roof. He would have to stop and then Dick would have them. But he didn’t stop, he kept running until they fell right over the side and Dick shouted, preparing to jump when Tim caught up to him and tackled him to the ground. Dick didn’t think, he threw his elbow out and caught Tim in the mouth, shoving himself upwards only to be taken down again by a flailing arm. “Stop!” Tim yelled crawling up next to him heaving in exhaustion as he wiped the blood off of his mouth. “Just look!” he told him forcing Dick's head up so that he could see that they hadn’t fallen. The Joker was hanging off of the end of the helicopter rope with Damian gripped tight to his chest. The boy didn’t yell out to him. He just looked at him with pleading eyes. Dick struggled against Tim but he held him firmly to the ground. “Even you can’t make that jump Dick.” he told him pained and held him all the tighter. Dick knew that he was right. But watching that little boy's eyes as they got away, he couldn’t help but hate Tim for not letting him try. 

**-**

He hadn’t slept or changed since they got back to the cave. He spent hours trying to pull up Damian’s tracker and com, but when he finally got it up he chased it back to an abandon car shop that had been vacated before they got there. Joker played this game too well to let him win that easily. So he ran the face scans again. And again. And again looking for anyone alive that could possibly match up to the man on the security video. 

He jumped when a hand came down on his shoulder but turned back to the computer when he saw that it was Tim. “Dick, you have to sleep.” he told him and Dick shrugged his hand off. He wasn’t mad at Tim anymore but he couldn’t fathom sleeping. 

“There isn’t time.” he told him adding a new man by the name of Dane Riggs to his short list of possibilities. 

“Dick, it’s been two days,” he told him sounding exhausted himself. 

Two days? He looked back at Tim and noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the devastation there as he watched Dick come to. It couldn’t have been that long, they had just gotten back from- no they hadn’t. “I have to…” he looked around them, desperately needing something to keep him busy. 

Tim shook his head. “There is nothing we can do right now. Not until Bruce gets back and that could still be a few more days.” He kept talking but Dick didn’t really hear what he was saying. Bruce’s name had been a knife in his chest, forcing the air out of him. He hadn’t thought about Bruce. Bruce coming home to his failure prodigy that lost his son. 

“I am going to follow this lead and come right back.” he promised Tim as gently as he could manage. 

“Then you will sleep?” Tim asked. 

Dick nodded. “Sure.” 

**-**

He had four names on his list. Four names that matched enough of the profile in the camera footage to give him hope enough to find the Joker, or maybe just someone who could point him in the right direction. The first man he went for lived in south Gotham in a small apartment towards a dead end alley where he had been picked up by Gotham PD for public fornication. He perched on the lip of a roof top and waited, the sun just setting and casting him into shadow. He waited until the work crowd started slumping back home and then he waited through that. He waited until the heaviness of the last two days started to weigh him down and only then did Adam Travis leak his way across the street to the alley entrance of his home. 

Dick dropped behind him silently and waited until he reached for his keys to drag him away from the windows with a hand over his mouth. Adam shouted but it was muffled and reached back to try and grab him, but Dick was too fast. He had his sticks in a cross against his throat before he could say “What tha-” Adam held up his hands in a silent surrender, his eyes hard and wary, not afraid. Expecting the worst before it even happened. He had done this before. 

“Tell me where the Joker is.” Dick hissed at him just over a whisper. 

The man didn’t flinch, “He’s dead. You killed him didn’t you?” 

Dick pulled one of the sicks back and lit up the end with an electric current. “You know that isn’t true.” He waited until he calmed a little to say, “Tell me what you know and I will walk away right now.” he promised. “Otherwise-”

“Look man, I don’t know nothing about the Joker.” he told him a little fear finally trickling out of him. “I saw on the news a few years ago that he was killed, but a buddy of mine says they got him up enough to send him to the Asylum. After that I got nothing, okay?” 

Dick stared him down, watching him until he was absolutely sure that he was telling him the truth and pulled the other stick back in. “Sorry I wasted your time,” he muttered and vaulted up the fire escape before his anger could get the best of him. 

**-**

He was back to a blank slate as he dragged his exhausted body back to the cave and ripped his mask off with a punch to the wall that he instantly regretted. Pain shot up his arm like and he almost wished for it back when it let up. Dick had nothing left in him. No warmth, no leads. Nothing but the knowledge of his failure and the horrible image of Damian in his mind, alone somewhere with that freak hurting him or worse-

He wouldn’t think about that. 

He staggered on his way up to the operations desk wondering just how mad Tim would be at him for staying out all night again or if he would even notice that he hadn’t come back. He was pretty sure that he could convince him that he had slept if he took a shower and changed out of the suit, but when he saw images flying across the dashboard monitor he knew that he couldn’t sneak around him. Dick silently prepared himself for a lecture wondering if he had it in him to feel bad about this or not when his body swayed slightly in its effort to keep him up and he knocked a stack of papers off of the table. 

The chair turned and it wasn’t Tim. It wasn’t Bruce either. “Clark?” he asked wondering if he had fallen asleep after all.

**\---**

As soon as Clark's feet touched the ground, Bruce had an armful of Tim. It was worse than he'd been bracing himself for, if Tim was this rattled. He carefully moved his uninjured arm to hold him. Clark was still holding most of his weight. “Supes,” Tim said without moving his face from where it was shoved into Bruce's chest.

“Tim. We got your message. You'll have to show us how you boosted the signal when you get Damian back.” 

Tim nodded. Bruce felt himself relaxing into the hug. “Dick is… he's not himself.” Tim lowered his arms and took a step back. Stepping back from the boy whose irritating brother had been kidnapped and into the vigilante who was missing a partner. “You’re injured.” Tim said, with regret on his face. Bruce studied his face, trying to figure out just how bad it was. Tim had a split lip, and he could see a taser burn just below his jaw. Tim hadn't held back with the hug so it didn't seem like he was injured anywhere else. 

“I'm fi-” 

Clark shifted and his breath caught. “He'll be fine. Can you show me to his room, Tim? Then you can update Bats on what happened.” Tim nodded. “While you're resting.” Bruce didn't say anything. He wasn't going to fight this. He wanted to, but he couldn't stand on his own. He'd only endanger himself and possibly even Damian if he found him now. Clark got him settled in his bed and pointedly looked at him when he didn't take the pills Alfred had given him. Bruce swallowed the pills. He raised an eyebrow and Clark scoffed. “I'll be around for a little bit. Just shout if you need me.” He rubbed Tim's head as he passed him. Tim grumbled and pat his hair back into place. Clark was the only one of the league that still treated his kids, like kids. Tim watched him leave before turning back, eyes serious. 

“So what happened?” 

“We were breaking up a drug deal. I went around to cut them off and The Joker was there. Just sitting on the fire escape. There was something different though. I'm not sure how to explain it, but he was going to kill me.” Tim's voice trembled slightly. Bruce reached out, ignoring the fuzzy pain in his arm as he pat his hands. Tim grabbed his wrist. “Me. Not Robin. He knew my name. He knew Dick’s.” Tim blinked slowly and looked back at him. “He smiled when I hesitated and tazed me. It was like he knew where to hit. He took my grappler and tossed it in a dumpster before dragging me up the fire escape. I tried to fight. He just kept tazing me.” Tim rubbed at his neck as he spoke. “He was watching them then smiled again and looked at me. He asked me if I thought Dick would take the bait. Then he was holding me over the alley, like I was nothing.” Tim let go and leaned back. “Dick caught me. And then Damian was just gone. I don't think it was the Joker. He had a helicopter, and managed to catch and climb a rope hanging from it, while carrying Damian.” Tim looked away. “I've never seen him so scared like that.” 

Tim told him what happened after, caught him up on the little evidence they were able to find, but nothing stood out. He started to drift, with the sharpness of pain fading he found it harder to focus. The last thing he saw was Tim yawning and curling into himself, still reciting the information he had gathered. 

**-**

It was another two days before he could manage to make it out of bed without help. By then Dick was back in the manor, but hadn't stopped by. Tim had left a laptop with him that first night and he spent the time he was awake working. 

He leaned against the bathroom door frame. The shower felt good, but the heat had his head spinning. “Need some help?” Clark was watching him from the hallway. He'd dropped by once each day, Bruce knew that he'd have a red and blue hound dog chasing him down if he wasn't in the room. 

“If you don't mind?” he hated asking, but knew he shouldn't push it, that this was the quickest way to heal and get his son back. 

“Dick asked how you were doing last night.” Clark offered as he slid under his arm. 

“What did you tell him?” 

“To check on you himself. He's afraid you blame him. It's like he doesn't know you at all. You always blame yourself first,” he chuckled darkly as he sat down. Clark handed him a glass of lemonade that hadn't been there when he got in the shower. He gulped down the cold liquid and his head cleared. “Any luck?” 

Bruce shook his head. “I thought I found something last night, but Tim said it had been abandoned when he checked. Recently, so I was on the right track.” He shrugged. “Tim found some files that they had attempted to burn, I'm checking them now.” He glanced at the laptop screen. 

“He blames himself. He still thinks Jason was somehow his fault.” Clark thankfully ignored the hitch in his throat as he mentioned the former Robin. 

“Tim and Dick are arguing.” Clark said, eyes drifting to the floor. “Dick doesn't want him leaving?” 

He nodded. “The Titans called this morning. Tim is checking in with them. He'll be back tomorrow.” He'd been wary himself, but knew it was important. Life didn't stop just because you wanted it to. 

“If I knew shooting you with an energy rifle would make you agreeable I would have done it years ago.” Clark joked, taking the empty cup and putting it back on the tray. “Are you okay?” Bruce wasn't sure. Part of him was just waiting for the explosion that would rip another Robin away from him and leave him with yet another hole in what was left of his heart. The other part was raging and fighting to be out there. To save his son. To keep his family together. He knew that if Damian died Dick would be gone and he wouldn't blame him. 

“I'll be okay once I get Damian back.” 

**-**

His chest was burning, his knees ached, but he refused to stop. He focused on breathing, steady ins and outs as his feet carried him forward. - _Beeep_ \- he let out a breath and slowed as the treadmill settled into it's cool down cycle. Bruce jogged along for a few more minutes before stepping off. It had been 2 weeks since Damian had been taken. His shoulder still ached, but he could fight through it. He'd fought through worse. Tim had come home the previous night with half of his wings and a bullet lodged in his Kevlar. Batman’s absence had been noticed by the criminals of Gotham. 

He grabbed his water bottle and took a few gulps as he headed out into the cave. He glanced up when he realized the cave wasn't empty. Dick was standing at the computer. He hadn't seen him since he'd gotten back, he knew Dick had been avoiding him. He hadn't realized just how much effort Dick had been putting into it before that moment though. Dick looked like he was going to leave then his eyes flicked down and he jerked forward. “Oh my god.” He covered his bare shoulder by reflex. The wound was red and starfished across his chest like lightning bolts. “I thought Clark was exaggerating.” Dick moved closer. He lowered his hand and let Dick poke at the edges. “Is this just under your skin?” Dick ran his finger along the edge of one of the tendrils and continued asking questions. It reminded him of the first time he'd gotten shot a few weeks after Dick became Robin. He'd babbled and touched the wound before Alfred had stitched him up. He’d known then that it was a way to cope with his worry. 

This felt nothing like that had. Dick was just worried, probably hadn't stopped being worried from the moment he saw Tim hanging off the ledge. He knew it, but still had to bite back his reaction to the fingers running along his collarbone now. “Dick,” Bruce breathed as calloused fingers pressed harder at the colored skin. 

Dick’s eyes found his, there was a flicker of something before Dick stepped back, hand dropping to his side. “I've got to-” 

“Stay.” his voice was barely above a whisper. Dick paused. “Tell me what you've found.” he added, voice rough. 

Dick wasn't sure exactly what it was, but seeing Bruce like that, scarred and bare before him made the blood spike on the back of his neck. It was all he could do not to run out of the room but it was even harder to pull his eyes off of his shoulder and up to his eyes. 

There was no anger there. Not that he had really expected Bruce to be mad. He had only ever been truly angry with Dick when he did something stupid or got himself hurt. Bruce hadn't blamed him for Jason.He hadn't blamed him when he thought he'd killed the Joker. He could see now that he didn't blame him for Damian. And even though he was riddled with worry, a part of him relaxed as he waved him over to the screen. “I've scanned the security footage from the museum about a hundred times.” Dick admitted with a grimace as he pulled up the database to show him. “We've had about twenty living partial matches and every one of them turned up in a dead end.” he rubbed his hand over the bridge in his nose and turned to Bruce frowning. 

“What?” he asked warily. 

“It's stupid.” Dick warned him. 

“Tell me.” 

Dick turned back to the desktop and hit enter. “There was one scan that was almost an exact match. But it isn't possible.” he stepped back so that their shoulders were almost touching and let the computer stop on a painfully familiar face with the word ‘deceased,’ written underneath. 

He didn't look at Bruce but he didn't need to. He listened to the way his breathing hitched and felt him stiffen in the fraction of an inch between them. “Jason.” he said blandly. 

“I looked into it.” Dick admitted. “He knew us Bruce. He knew our names and the way that we moved. But the hospital records are solid, I checked his grave, his dental records… it isn't Jason.” 

Bruce was quiet for a moment. “He has stolen faces before.” he said. 

Dick didn't want to think about it. He shut down the monitor and leaned against the desk. “How are you feeling?” he asked wanting to change the subject. He didn't want to think about stealing faces, not when Damian was still missing. He still hadn't spoken to Tim since he'd gotten back, both relieved and angry at him- not knowing how to balance it. And there was Bruce. He looked him over again resisting the urge to touch the scar tissue again. 

“Better.” Bruce said but there was something off about the way he was talking to him. 

Dick knew that he had to say something. Address what had happened but he choked on it. He set his eyes on the ground. “Bruce,” he started, his mouth feeling sticky. And when he looked up he was right there, close enough that he was sure that his breath was hitting his chest and Dick wanted to reach out to him so fucking bad. His gaze wandered slowly up his chest until he was staring under his jaw. His mouth was sticky. He set his lips and sucked the bottom one into his mouth. Bruce took a step closer. “I… I didn't mean to… I should have-” 

- _Incoming call from Commissioner Gordon._ \- 

Dick jumped up and rushed out if the room before he could do anything stupid. 

_-_

He spent the two days ducking around corners when he saw Bruce coming. It had been a lot easier to avoid Bruce when he was less mobile. As it was, Dick spent a lot of time entirely too aware of where Bruce was at all times. 

“What are you doing?” Dick jumped out of his skin when Clark appeared behind him. Clark had been in and out of the mansion since Bruce's accident and had a horrible ability to prevent making any noise at all. Clark raised an eyebrow at him, looking over at Bruce who was doing a slow set of pull ups on the library door frame. Dick had been shamelessly watching him over the top of his book. 

He cleared his throat. “Waiting for news from Tim.” he told him hastily. Tim had forced him to sit this one out and threatened to lock him in his room if he tried coming after him. He’d thought that watching Bruce would distract him. It did, too well. 

Clark didn't say anything but he didn't have to. Dick stood up too fast, “I'm going to be in the cave.” he said. The cave was cold and he was too hot. He tore off his shirt and threw it into the chair by the computer. What was wrong with him? He had never been so easily flustered in his life and he wasn't sure how to be over it. He found a bully stick in the corner and threw it around his bicep closing his eyes. He need to get over this. There were things that needed to be done. He would focus and finding Damian and when they got him back things would be fine. He would go back to work and his own apartment and he wouldn't have to deal with this. He twirled the stick around his neck and tossed it, catching it firmly in his left hand before he broke it in two and rolled his wrist. 

His body responded automatically when he heard the soft pad behind him and threw one half in the direction. Bruce just barely caught it before it hit his bad shoulder, blinking like he'd just come out of a trance. “Bruce, fuck- sorry.” he breathed. He walked over to take the stick back from him. Their hands touched for the briefest of seconds before he got a hold of his bearings and stepped back. He put the bully stick back together and placed it against the wall. Bruce threw his shirt to him before he could ask. 

**-**

Tim was called back to the Titans again. Dick didn't argue with him again. He didn't want that to be the last thing in his mind when Tim was off fighting. He waited in the entryway pacing until he came downstairs with his bag. Tim stopped and watched him warily for a minute and finally relaxed. “Look after the old man will you?” he grumbled after Dick awkwardly told him to check in. 

“Of course.” he told him and pulled him into an obnoxious hug before Tim could get away from him. 

**-**

It felt weird being on a watch with just the two of them. They hadn't been alone in years, not on a mission. Dick could almost feel himself back in the tights, donning the cape and mask before they marched out to battle. As it was, it felt almost the same in his own suit. “Duck,” he grunted and swung his stick hard at the man behind him so that he fell next to the other three. Bruce groaned a little getting back up, his shoulder having taken a bit of a hard hit in the fight. “Okay?” he asked and Bruce nodded, but he still grabbed onto his arm to pull himself up. The rest of the loading dock was pretty deserted. Quiet fell over them as they fell into step with each other again, silently blending into one another as they focused on their target. 

There was a group of men in the cargo bay arguing loudly over a couple of crates, guns pointed in all directions. “That isn't the sum we agreed upon.” The man in a brown leather jacket said as he sucked his cigarette down to the butt. 

“Well, Mr. J changed his mind.” The other man, a tall black guy with bleached hair cut close to his scalp leered at him. “And what J wants- J gets.” Guns clicked the ammo into place but Batman and his original Robin were already on the move. Bruce jumped from the top of a crate and took out the guy in brown, tossing little balls at the two on his side, electricity running through them, and bringing them both to the ground. 

Dick took the other two. Grabbing the big guys gun and knocking him in the back of the head with it. The talker was grinning when Dick shoved him into side of the cargo stack, shoving the still loaded gun under his chin. “Where is the Joker?” he demanded. 

The man laughed at him and rolled his eyes. “You ain't gonna use that.” he grinned at Dick, “Not your MO birdy boy.” 

He pressed the gun harder into his skin. “Try me.” he hissed. 

“Nightwing.” Bruce’s hand came down hard on his shoulder and Dick shut his eyes, fury flying through him. He pulled the gun and pointed the barrel into the the side of the hold next to the man's head, firing until it was empty. He let him go, watching him shout and clasp his ringing ears until Bruce did him a favor and gave him a boot to the head. When he turned back to Dick he wasn't angry, and that was almost worse than if he had been. What the fuck was Dick doing? He’d told Tim he would look out for Bruce but here they were and he couldn't keep his shit together. “Dick,” he took a step towards him. 

He dropped the gun. “Don't.” he almost pleaded and started back towards the cave without him.

**\---**

“Any news?” Clark asked from the mat. He offered him a hand up, feeling generous since Clark had volunteered to spar with him instead of making him ask, or even beg. Bruce had been working out, but still didn't feel like he was back in fighting form. He'd taken too many punches the night before. One that he'd seen coming and just hadn't moved quick enough to dodge. His shoulder still ached near constantly. But he knew that just needed practice. He needed one of his partners, but Tim had left three nights ago for the Tower. And Dick. Dick hadn't been in the cave for the past two days. Not since whatever had happened with the Joker Thug. He was grateful for the offer, not that he'd ever admit it.

“A few minor leads, but nothing has really panned out. Tim sent me a file last night that he's pretty sure is part of the case, but I haven't gotten a chance to look at it.” Clark settled into a defensive stance and beckoned him forward with a wave of his fingers. He moved forward and Clark dodged, barely, he was getting out of practice too. He'd have to say something when this mess was over, he landed a few blows to the man’s ribs and dodged a fist that was moving a little faster than normal. Bruce grinned to himself, this felt better. He was pushing on the super if he was using his speed. Clark stumbled when a leg swipe caught him. He took him down to the mat, hissing as his shoulder flared in pain. 

Clark had them both upright and was heading toward the med bay before he had even finished his breath. “Let's take a breather,” Clark offered as he tossed him a cooling pad and headed for main desk. Bruce pressed it to his shoulder and followed. He should be healed enough by now. He wasn't sure what was holding him back. 

Clark was fiddling with his phone, serious look on his face. “What?” 

Clark shrugged. “Connor called. He never calls. Texts. All. The. Time.” Clark shot him an exasperated look as he lifted to phone to listen to the voicemail. He stifled a laugh as he settled at the computer and pulled up the file Tim had sent. 

It was just 3 jpegs. Bruce wasn't sure how it was going to lead them anywhere, but Tim wouldn't have sent them if they weren't important. 

“Connor says Tim hasn't shown up at Titans Tower. He was wondering if-”

The first photo was Damian, sitting with his legs crossed and a scowl on his face. He was in a shirt more than a few sizes too big. He was holding one finger in front of him. Bruce stared at the split lip, newly opened, and a bruise on his cheek, likely from the same blow, but other than that he looked unharmed. He closed the photo and opened the second. It was of Tim. His eyes were closed, head hanging slightly, likely unconscious. Propped on his shoulder was the smiling face he'd never forget. Two of Tim's gloved fingers were being held up for the camera. He took a deep breath. This was a game. Just a game. He'd win it and get his sons back. He had defeated the Joker before. 

He clicked on the third and final file. 

“Oh shit.” Clark hissed. He'd forgotten he was there. Bruce shoved the chair back and was running for the manor stairs.

“Dick!” 

Alfred popped out of a room, eyes wide and questioning. 

“Dick?!” his voice cracked as he started up the stairs. He had to be there. The Joker couldn't have taken both of them without him noticing. 

“Wha?” Dick asked, sounding like he'd just woken up.

It took a lot for him to stay standing as the relief shot through him. The final picture had 3 purple gloved fingers in the foreground. In the background was Dick sleeping in his room at the manor. Close enough that he could see the picture of the Flying Graysons on the nightstand. His hands ached to touch him, to confirm he was there and safe. To pull him in and never let go. Instead he touched his elbow briefly and headed for the cave. “He took Tim.”

**-**

“It did come from Tim. His cell to be precise.” Barbara said after a few seconds. “Dammit Tim.” he listened to keys clack for a minute. “His phone's tracking program is pinging all over the place. He did something to it and I can't track it without putting in some significant time. And we don't even know if it was even still with him.” She grumbled for a few more minutes. “I'll call you when I get something back from the photos.”

“Thanks.” Bruce offered to the empty line. Alfred was next to him reviewing all surveillance footage. He went through the logs since Damian was taken. He'd upgraded his security after Damian came to live with them. There shouldn't have been any way he got in without using a code. He scanned the code log, there were a few odd entries, a mistyped number, an old code. He read a few more lines before he looked back. The old code. That was Jason's. He opened the details. 5:40am two days ago. The night they had run into the Joker's men. He pulled up the footage for that time, nothing looked out of place. Alfred touched his shoulder. “There.” It was just a fraction of a second, but a curtain swayed every five seconds. 

“Oracle, I need you to go over the security system. The footage has been looped. They were good enough to not get seen creating the loop. Find out how they did it and make sure it can't happen again. 

“Got it.”

“That is Master Jason's code.” Alfred said softly. He nodded. “The joker had him, it's likely that is how he got the code.” He could hear his own doubt. He knew there was an explanation. This didn't feel like the Joker. But every other explanation was impossible. Just impossible. 

“Why didn't you disable the code?” Dick asked. Bruce hadn't heard him come down. 

“I had other things to worry about at the time.” Like grieving. 

“The joker having a way to get into your house didn't seem like something you should take a second to worry about?” Dick was angry. He'd been a breath away from shouting since he found out Tim was gone. He'd yelled for what seemed like hours that he shouldn't have let Tim leave. That if he had been with them he would have been safe. He bit his tongue against any comment, he knew that pointing out Damian’s abduction and the break in, would have broken him. He was barely holding together as it was. “Was there some gala to attend?” Dick hissed. Alfred shushed him harshly. 

“My son had just died. Forgive me if I didn't immediately erase him from my life. You would have known how hard it was, how quiet the manor was… for months.” He felt his throat close up. “You would have known if you hadn't run away the second we found him.” He took a shaky breath and headed back up to the manor. There wasn't anything else effective he could do until Oracle got back to him. 

Dick got up to rush after him, not ready to drop the argument, not wanting to feel like a stupid kid picking a fight that he didn't need to- but he stopped. What was he doing? What were _they_ doing? He was suddenly so angry with everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks that he wanted to scream. No, he wanted to hit something. He grabbed his jacket and stormed towards the garage that held his motorcycle shuffling around for the keys in annoyance. “Looking for something?” Alfred asked, his keys clutched tight in gloved his hand. He wouldn't be getting them back easily.

“I'm going out.” Dick said gruffly, not about to let himself be swayed. He needed to do something. Anything that could lead to getting the robins back. 

Alfred looked tired. “I'm afraid that I can't let you do that, Master Dick.” He sighed and stepped forward, pressing a button that moved the bike underground. “Master Bruce would be very upset were anything to happen to you tonight. Don't you think there is enough on his plate?” 

“Alfred, he doesn't want me here.” Dick told him not able to make himself look his way. “I keep messing everything up and he's…” he made himself reword so that he felt a little less like a child, “I made him mad at me. I should just-” 

“Master Bruce was scared today when he thought you were taken.” Alfred told him and when Dick finally looked at him, his eyes were nothing but kind. “He cares for you very much. But you make it so difficult for him sometimes.” 

“So does he.” Dick grumbled. 

“Does it really matter?” Alfred asked lifting an eyebrow, “I didn't think so.” He continued after Dick didn't respond. Dick looked back towards the manor, the fire in him dying and the guilt taking over. And it was crushing. His throat felt tight and exhaustion weighed heavy on him. He knew what he needed to do. He knew that the only way to get the Robins back was to go and do it. But getting there felt impossible. Alfred understood. He pat Dick lightly on the shoulder and took his helmet from him. “He is in the study.” he told him and left him to it. 

**-**

He stood in the doorway for ten minutes before he held his breath and finally forced himself to knock. Bruce didn't even look up at him, his brows drawn together in focus on whatever papers were on his desk. “Can I come in?” he asked. Bruce glanced up at him, a brief hard look that made him feel like a hot pile of shit and then he nodded before looking back at his papers. 

Dick shut the door behind him not that he really had to. There were only three people in the manor and he was positive that Alfred would be avoiding the office right now. He took a few steps forward stopping in the middle of the room. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to approach further without permission, so he just shuffled his feet and sucked in enough air to push out. “What I said was really horrible, and I'm sorry.” Bruce stopped flipping through his papers as Dick cleared his throat. “Look, I know that you loved Jason, we all did- and it would be heartless of me to assume that you would immediately be able to cast that aside and follow a stupid protocol.” He could feel Bruce looking at him now but he kept his eyes on his feet, still shuffling, “I know I'm being a dick, and I know it's not fair to you. But this case…” 

He forced his eyes off of the ground. “Damian was my fault.” He told Bruce, his eyes firmly set and unwavering. “You left him with me and you trusted me and I couldn't,” he had to swallow hard, “I didn't do my job and he… he could be… and Tim...” 

The way Bruce was watching him was too much to keep looking at so he started pacing. “I pulled back from the family because I didn't want to have to be responsible for that. I saw what Jason did to you and with your actual son...I didn't want to feel that kind of… hate in myself. I didn't want to lose you.” He told him and he stopped walking, “But then I lost Damian- and I can't stop being an asshole because I need you to hate me as much as I hate myself right now.”

“That's not possible.” Bruce's voice was so close from where Dick remembered him being that he jumped a little and startled when his arms closed around him holding Dick in an iron cage. He wanted to pull away. He didn't deserve this, he shouldn’t have this. But instead he melted into it, his own arms holding Bruce tight against him and his face tucked into his neck. He felt Bruce shiver but dismissed it holding him all the tighter, feeling so relieved in that moment that he started to cry.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

He slept like the dead that night and didn't wake up until the sun was already high in the sky and the clock in his bedside table read 11. He was in Bruce’s room and his head ached like he had been drinking, he guessed crying had that effect sometimes. If you did it hard enough or long enough, your mind was at ease but your body started to hurt. Bruce was asleep next to him, his arm still extended as though they had fallen asleep holding each other. And maybe they had. He was tempted to reach out and touch the light grey speckle of his sideburns but Bruce hadn't slept in days either and Dick didn't want to take that from him.

He pushed himself off the bed as lightly as he could and made his way down to the kitchen to put some coffee on. He filled the pot and let his mind trace the events of last night. Bruce had hugged him and Dick cried. He tried not the grimace at that and kept going. They stood in the office for about an hour before Bruce suggested that they go to bed and took Dick back to his room. They hadn't talked about it, they just laid down and Bruce rubbed his back and stroked his hair until he fell to sleep. He leaned his elbows against the counter and ducked his head, running a hand through the back of his hair. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt like that, that at ease or safe, almost happy. The smell of coffee dragged him out of his thoughts enough to grab two mugs and pour them just before Bruce found him, bleary eyed and a heavy sigh falling out of him as Dick handed him the mug and pushed himself back onto the countertop. 

He watched Bruce over the top of his mug until Bruce looked his way and then they just sort of took turns looking at each other until Dick couldn't deal with the silence anymore. “C’mon.” He told him grabbing the coffee out of Bruce's hand and putting his mug in the sink. 

He pouted but let Dick grab his arm and lead him towards the cave. “Where are we going?” he asked. 

“When is the last time your sparred with anyone but Clark?” he asked and grinned wickedly when Bruce just grumbled. 

**-**

Bruce struck him in the side but Dick had already fallen into a leg sweep that knocked him off his feet and shoved the staff over his chest to hold him down. “Getting a little rusty.” He smirked at him and offered a hand to help him up, Bruce grabbed it but flipped him so that he was laying on the ground next to him and the whole thing started again. 

Dick kicked his legs and was back on his feet just in time to duck a blow to the left but not fast enough to miss the jab to his gut. Bruce took advantage of him being off guard and twisted him so that he was in a headlock, Dick’s hands the only thing holding the crushing grip of Bruce's massive forearm. “What was that you were saying?” he grunted and Dick grit his teeth, gathering all of his weight and kicked off the ground before he rocked back onto his knees, rolling Bruce over his back until he was sprawled on the ground with Dick on top of him, knees pinning him to the ground. 

“Wanna… tapout?” he panted barely able to keep his knees down hard enough to keep him still. 

Bruce’s entire body was alight as they fought. He'd missed this. It was easy to spar with Dick. Dick teased and joked, and he never failed to draw the same mood out of him. Dick always managed to keep him on his toes. Bruce enjoyed figuring out the next move he'd make. And the next 3 that would come immediately after that. Dick always had moves that followed his initial attack, whether that attack worked or failed. His back hit the mat, and Dick offered a hand up with a lopsided grin. A rush shot through him as touched his hand. He flipped Dick to give him a second to get back under control. Of course Dick didn't give him long. They grappled and he managed to get Dick in a headlock, pressed tightly against his back. He ground out a remark, he focused on breathing evenly. 

He had a second to realize his mistake before he was on his back and Dick was holding him down. His shoulder throbbed with each beat of his heart as Dick leaned forward to keep his weight centered on him. It would be so easy. Dick bit his lip and put more pressure on his shoulders as he tried to roll him off. Bruce stared at the tender flesh caught in his teeth. His heartbeat was heavy in his ears. Dick let his lip free, red and too inviting. He moved forward as Dick leaned back. “Are you… okay?” Dick asked, voice dropping off suddenly. Bruce shut down. Panic rose and he could feel himself drawing inward. Dick just sat there eyes widening as each second passed. 

“Dinner is ready.” Alfred’s voice called from the main room of the cave. Dick jumped to his feet and darted out of the room. He stared at the ceiling. He had fucked up. Again. He let out a long breath and stood. He headed upstairs, giving Dick space. 

Alfred handed him a thick envelope when he sat down at the table. Dick was already eating, eyes focused on the plate before him. “This was delivered while you were getting ready for dinner.” it was addressed to both of them, but events always made sure to include which of his children were invited, ever since Damian and Tim tore a 14th century painting at the first event Damian had ever attended. 

He opened it and pulled out the invitation to the masquerade the Children's Hospital threw every year. Normally he'd attend, after all it was one of Tim's favorite events but he didn't feel like going without the entire family. He had more important things to do. 

“Bruce.” Dick was pale and staring at the invitation. “Turn it around.” There was a Joker card taped to the back of the invitation. He peeled it off and dropped it to the table. “Who delivered it?” Dick asked Alfred. 

“The same gentleman that always delivers the mail.” Alfred picked up the card. 

“You're going?” Dick asked. It didn't sound like a question. 

“We both are apparently.” Bruce slid him the envelope. “It's addressed to both of us.” 

They spent the next few days studying blueprints and coming up with exit plans. Dick studied him when he didn't think he was watching. Any time he thought Dick might say something he diverted his attention to some problem he'd already solved hours ago, or headed up to work on some WE project. Bruce wasn't ready for this conversation, honestly doubted he would ever be ready. But now, when he felt dangerously fragile, he couldn't do it. 

The basis of their plan was to scope out the guests and look for any familiar faces. Which would be troublesome enough at any event, with the added difficulties the masks would bring, he was doubtful they would end the night without some fight. As long as they stayed together they would be okay. Bruce knew Barry would laugh at his plan, mock it like he did on the planet, and as he pulled his suit from the closet he could agree. 

He settled the mask over his face. It was ornate, silver fleur-de-lis interspersed with metallic black lace. The faint twinkle of diamonds added useless monetary value to the mask. He'd taken care to choose the appropriate mask. The more common masks reminded him too much of his face in the cowl. All it took was some bored reporter and he could see his secret being revealed. Once he saw this mask he knew it was the one. It covered his brow over his left eye and ran along the bridge of his nose and followed along his jaw. It wasn't as ostentatious as some of the others, but it had enough to draw attention to the mask and not the face beneath. He adjusted his tie and headed downstairs. Dick was already waiting, in a navy blue suit. He was holding his mask as he talked to Alfred. “Are you sure I shouldn't just be watching?” 

“We'll need him to think we've fallen into his trap.” 

Dick took one more look at himself in small mirror by the door, pushing the stray hair that kept falling out of place back off his forehead and looked back at Bruce. He looked good. He looked like a guy who owned the world and knew it. And even though Dick had seen him in a mask about a thousand times, there was something to the elegance of this one that unsettled his stomach in a familiar way that he could almost remember a few days ago when they were sparing. He had been almost positive that Bruce was… well he was almost positive. And he hadn't had a chance to ask. He got his mask into place, a simple blue with silver embellishments that carved out a little over a third of his face, covering his brow completely. “Ready?” he asked.

“As I'll ever be.” Bruce told him, the half of his lips that he could see were tense and pursed. 

“Good.” He said snatching the keys to the Audi before Bruce could reach out. “I'll drive.”

**-**

The car screeched to a halt in front of the valet who looked very unsure about approaching until they stepped out of the car and Bruce produced their invitation. A server greeted them as he passed over the keys and handed them both a glass of champagne, “Mr. Wayne. Mr. Grayson.” He nodded them politely towards the hall. 

“You look a little green.” Dick smirked as they walked up the stairs behind an older couple dressed to the nines. 

Bruce grunted at him, “I hate when you drive. I always feel like I just stepped off a roller coaster.” 

“I think that might actually be the most old man thing you have ever said.” Dick chuckled and they stepped into the hall. It was packed already, still half an hour before the event was technically supposed to start. Dick had wanted to come by earlier but Bruce was right, someone would have noticed how much attention they were paying to people coming in, and Dick respected Bruce's prevalence but they both knew that after a while his charm turned into impatience. There was a sea of people in masks all of them laughing and talking loudly, nothing and no one looked familiar. “This is going to be impossible.” Dick grimaced and turned to Bruce. “Where do we start?” he asked. 

Bruce scanned the crowd casually and nodded towards the left. “The bar.” 

The bar top was mostly empty and with more and more people arriving, it was the perfect spot to examine the traffic. Bruce sat at one end of the counter top and Dick roamed, but not too far, sipping an old fashioned and let the burn fuel the charming smile he left on his face as he was greeted by old acquaintances from the museum. After fifteen minutes he excused himself back to the bar where Bruce's back was to him, saying goodbye to a man Dick had seen at WE once or twice. Dick smirked and walked up behind him, sliding his glass onto the counter next to where his hand was. “You come here often?” He muttered into his ear. Bruce didn't look back at him, he tilted his neck so that his exposed cheek was raised to him. 

“It's my first time.” He told him. 

Dick could hear the smirk in his voice and delighted in it, “Well allow me to welcome you to the party.” He waved over the bartender and sat down next to him, maybe a little closer than he would have normally. “ Maybe you'll think about coming back again.” He flashed his biggest mega watt smile at Bruce and pushed the drink that the bartender set in front of them over. 

Bruce smirked at him and sipped at the drink. “Does that really work?” he asked amused. 

Dick shrugged. “Sometimes.” He wiggled his eyebrows before he realized that Bruce couldn't see it. 

“It's cheesy,” Bruce told him look back at the new crowd around them.

“It's a line.” Dick rolled his eyes, “Not Shakespeare. What would you say?” He gazed at the crowd too. 

But Bruce pulled his chair around and leaned over his, the pure mass of him holding Dick to his seat as he muttered into his ear, “Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame, Is lust in action, and till action, lust.” He said the word lust as if he had licked it onto Dicks’s ear, it was everything that he could do not to shiver as he went on. “Is perjur’d, murd’rous, bloody, full of blame- Savage,” his hand fell onto Dick’s knee and he squeezed it, “extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoy’d no sooner but despisèd straight. Past reason hunted, and no sooner had, Past reason hated as a swallowed bait..” Dick swallowed hard as his breath hit the inside of his ear. “On purpose laid to make the taker mad.” 

Dicks throat was tight, lips dry and he had to force himself not to lick his lips. “What do they say?” he swallowed hard. 

Bruce pulled away slowly and shrugged. “I don't know.” He told him. “It's the first time I've used it.” 

A man tapped Bruce's shoulder and Dick took it as his chance to step back into the commotion on the floor. The event had officially begun now and an orchestra was playing waltz music while people ran across the floor and laughed. He had just found a dark corner to watch from when a hand caught his arm and a man was smiling a winning grin at him. “Tell me if I'm wrong,” he said under a crimson mask that covered almost his entire face. “Dick Grayson?” 

He narrowed his eyes but managed to make it seem like he was being playful. “I'm not sure I'm allowed to tell you that.” He told him with a smirk. “And you would be?” The man just shrugged at him and Dick frowned. “ That's hardly fair.” he told him suspicion rising. 

The man just smiled at him. “Tell you what,” he said moving out towards the back stairwell. “How about we go somewhere more private and we can talk about it.”

Dick knew that he shouldn't go, but everything in him told him that he had to see it through. This was something more than he thought it was. He pretended to move a hair behind his ear and pressed down on his comm to make it go live. “Okay.” He said after a minutes hesitation. “Lead the way.” 

The man led him up the winding staircase and Dick was just able to catch Bruce's eye. He nodded and Dick turned his attention back to the man before him. Good. His comm was working. He followed the man down a back hall and then into a room where he shut them in and kept the lights off. “Do you bring all guys into dark rooms or should I be flattered?” he asked turning back to him only to jump when lips crushed down on his own. He gasped in surprise at the viciousness of it, the man's hands rolling his hair and neck and face until it ended as abruptly as it began. “What the hell?” Dick gasped running a hand over his mouth. His mask was gone, the man was holding but that wasn't it. He reached up to his ear. He'd taken out his com. Dick grimaced and yanked his sticks off of his leg where he'd tied them before coming. “What the hell do you want?” he demanded, lighting up the end of them in electricity. 

The man wasn't smiling now as he reached behind his head. “I want you Dick.” He told him. “I want what you took from me.” He said giving the string behind him a final pull and exposed himself. 

The sticks slipped out if his numb fingers, clattering loudly to the floor in all of the silence that encased them. “Jason.”


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Bruce was at the stairs the moment he heard a shocked grunt. Dick’s voice was far away when it came back over the comm. “I want you, Dick.” was the last thing he heard before the comm went dead. He hesitated at the top of the stairs. Dick had sounded disgruntled, but not upset. Maybe he cut off the comm cause it wasn't part of the case after all. He sighed and turned to go back down the stairs when he heard a loud thump a few doors down. The stairs were cordoned off to keep the party downstairs and he hadn't seen anyone but Dick and the man in red go upstairs. He pushed open the door and froze.

There were impossible arms wrapped around Dick. 

“Oh hi, dad. You're a little earlier than I expected you. A little jealous?” Jason ran his fingers along the unconscious Dick’s jaw. He tore his gaze away and took in the sight before him. He had clearly walked in on Jason making his escape. There was a harness wrapped around Dick’s chest and a rope ladder hanging in the balcony behind them. Now that he listened for it he could hear the helicopter outside. “Dickybird and I are going on a little flight. I'm afraid there isn't enough room for 3. I left you something though.” he pointed to the envelope sitting on the desk between them. “I'll be seeing you.” he hooked a rope he hadn't noticed on the harness and pushed Dick over the balcony before jumping up the ladder. Bruce pushed off the shock and raced for the door, but they were too far. Jason waved as the helicopter moved off into the night. Dick hanging limp at the bottom of the rope. 

He grabbed the envelope. There was no need to read it now. He already knew what the envelope would tell him. Dick was gone. Bruce picked up his mask and tucked his sticks into the special pocket his coat. He mingled halfheartedly on his way through the event. He stopped by the host and gave his customary donation before offering his apologies. All the while tasting blood as he bit through his cheek. The valet smiled as he handed him the keys. He nodded quickly and slid into the car. He rested a hand on the mask in the passenger seat as he drove back to the manor. 

**-**

Alfred didn't believe him. He opened the envelope Bruce had handed him when he first walked in the door and told him Dick had been taken. There was photographic proof staring back at the butler, but he still didn't believe him. 

“It was Jason. He had the same eyes.” He had the same way of talking, even if the voice had deepened. “I don’t know how. But it's him.” He pulled up all of the evidence from the case. All of it suddenly became obvious. He'd refused to see the impossible until it was grinning in his face. 

“What does he want?”

He flipped the the picture of Jason, just smiling at the camera. It looked eerily like the painting boxed up in the attic. On the back it just said, _come find us_ , and an address. “He wants me to meet him.” 

“You're going?” 

Bruce nodded. There was no other way. He would face whatever wrath the boy had for him, and hope that he would be able to rescue the rest. “It’s the only way I can see that we get them back.” He added the photo to the rest of the file. 

Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder. He knew it was meant to be reassuring, but instead he felt 5 years old when his favorite tree had to be cut down due to disease. He'd imagined building a tree fort and spending nights in that tree. Alfred had sat him down, put a hand on his shoulder and told him it wouldn't be possible. “You will get them back. All of them.” The words sounded hollow, forced. But Bruce held onto them anyway, he didn't have any other choice. He had to believe that he would. 

**-**

He turned down the street and immediately knew where he was going. He hadn't been there in 5 years, but he knew the area, knew the building itself too well. The company had rebuilt after the explosion, even though the warehouse still stood empty. Gotham had warehouses that were older than him, that housed nothing but dust and mice- and yet they were always rebuilding. Although it had a different shell, he could see the ghost of what it had been. The grave for his second Robin. The mound of rubble that he pulled his son from. A memory he'd never hoped to revive. 

Bruce pulled over and stepped out, in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. Alfred hadn't understood why, but he had to do this. It was _his_ job to get his sons back. Not Batman’s. Batman had lost them all already. He had failed each one, even Jason. He couldn't fail them again. He pushed open the only door not padlocked and stepped inside. 

“Father!” Damian shouted. A bolt of relief shot through him hearing his youngest’s voice after so long. Tim was peering over Damian’s shoulder. His eyes widened when he noticed the lack of armor. The boys were tied together to a pole in the middle of the room. He looked around and Dick was similarly secured to another support beam a few yards away from them. He didn't look conscious from where he stood. 

“You know I didn't believe it when I heard you had a flesh and blood kid to call your own.” Jason walked out of the shadows. “Touching to see this family reunion, isn't it?” 

A crowbar dripped down and hung loosely in his hand. “Touching isn't it Dickie?” Jason swung and he stepped forward, but the crowbar hit the pole and Dick jumped, startled awake. His eyes were glassy when he looked up, he worried about a concussion, but there was nothing he could do now.

Everything was blurry when Dick's opened his eyes, small flashes of the previous night trying to drag him out of whatever haze that had pulled him under. He slowly let his gaze circle the room, collecting what he could until the pieces of the night before started to put themselves back together. Bruce was standing in front of him in a suit shirt and slacks, Tim and Damian were tethered by a chain locked to the pole across from him, and Jason… Jason was standing next to the bomb. 

“Don’t worry about golden boy,” Jason told Bruce, pushing Dick’s chin up with the curled end of a crow bar. “He was being difficult so I had one of my guys slip him a little something.” he smirked and planted a wet kiss on Dick’s cheek that he didn’t have the energy to fight off. He felt sore and congested like he had taken fifty benadryl and slept for three days. But it couldn’t have been that long could it? The haze was growing less prominent, but he couldn’t be sure how long it would take to go away completely and he needed to be aware now. 

Bruce was looking at Damian and Tim like he could finally breathe again. His unarmored face soft and hard set all at once, his jaw and eyes betraying two different people. He hadn’t noticed the bomb. Dick should tell him there was a bomb. “Bruce,” he started but the crowbar smacked the air out of his stomach and he coughed instead.

Bruce stepped forward involuntarily and Jason held up the crowbar again, this time holding it over Dick’s head. He saw Tim about to bark something out and caught his eye, mouthing ‘ _Don’t_ ’ as assertively as he could while crouched over. “Now now.” he tisked. “I wouldn’t come too close, Pops.” he deadpanned. “See right now, Dick might still be able to help himself.” His eyes were hard and cold. “He’s been trained for it after all. But the more you hit a dog,” he whacked him three more times in the chest fast, blood bubbled up in his throat and he spit up on the concrete at his feet, looking away from the boys so that Damian wouldn’t see. “The harder it is to get up.” he grabbed Dicks face and yanked it forward so that he was looking straight at Bruce. “Would you really expect a beaten dog to help itself, Bruce?” he demanded viciously before he let him go. 

Jason walked over to the center of the room and placed a case on the floor. “There is a key in the case made of noxic metal alloy. It has been cooled to the point where it will hold if you use it fast enough but melts fast. The same key works for both locks. The timer,” he nodded towards the the bomb behind him, “Goes off in 3 minutes.” He opened the case and cool steam floated out of it, the key already starting to gather condensation. “You choose who to save this time.” he told him with a hard malice filling his throat, stepping back. 

Dick had never seen the kind of pain that he now saw in Bruce’s eyes as he looked between the two. Dick forced himself to stand tall. It wasn’t a choice, he knew there wasn’t a choice here. “Bruce.” he growled and he dragged his eyes off the case to meet Dick's. And Dick knew. It was what they both wanted. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to their kids. He nodded once, it was small and quick but he knew that Bruce saw it. 

And then he was grabbing the key and shoving it into the other lock, just able to pry it open before it started loosing it’s shape in his palm. Tim rushed over the Dick, and pried at the lock but there wasn’t anything there that was going to break it. Jason grimaced at them, obviously he hadn’t been planning for Bruce to make this choice and he dipped out just as the bomb struck two and a half minutes left, taking the crowbar with him. 

“You have to go.” Dick told Tim as Damian and Bruce followed him over. 

“No.” Tim huffed, his face red with how hard he was pulling at the chain around him. 

Dick looked at the clock. 2 minutes. Then he looked at Bruce, his eyes hard set daring him to say something otherwise. Bruce swallowed hard and pulled Tim off of him. “Take Damian.” he told him, “Take him outside and keep him there.” 

“But-” Tim protested. 

“Now.” Bruce told him and Tim grabbed the boy hard by the arm and dragged him away screaming. 

Dick swallowed hard and looked at him with thirsty eyes. He had spent so many years taking for granted just how many chances he had had to look at Bruce. To watch him and know him- to study him the way you study art, the first masterwork that he had ever seen just pushed aside by hurt feelings and fear. “You have to go too,” he told him, coughing a wet sound again, but the blood stayed in his throat. Bruce shook his head but Dick growled at him, “I’m not going to let you leave those kids orphaned again.” he yelled at him, breath shaking and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to die. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Bruce die too. “Go! Now!” he kicked at him as far as his leg would go out but Bruce dodged it and caught his face in his hands, lips crashing into his own in a painful hard way that fluttered his eyes shut. His cheeks were hot but there was no time to be embarrassed. There was no time for anything but to kiss Bruce back as hard at he could for just one second longer. Two seconds. He bit Bruce’s lip hard and he pulled back, surprised. He licked the blood off of his lip and pursed them on the sob that threatened to leak out. “Go.” he told him finally. “Please go.” he begged and watched the ground so that he wouldn’t have to watch Bruce leave him. 

He stared at Dick, chest painfully tight. He glanced at the timer. 57 seconds left. He hooked a finger under Dick’s jaw. “I'm sorry. This wasn't how this was supposed to be.” he touched their foreheads and whispered the three words he'd been too terrified to admit. Too scared by how much they would change. Too scared that he would lose everything they'd built. Too scared that he'd lose the first person to light up his life. To lift the shadows in his heart. Bruce let go and ran. His heart was breaking with each step, but he knew he had to go. He knew he had responsibilities that even this couldn't end. Tim was sitting in the car, already on. He slid into the open door and they peeled away. He looked over and Tim was staring at the road. He didn't look like he was taking anything in. He shouldn't be driving, Bruce thought. They rounded the corner and the bomb went off. Tim choked out a sob. Bruce looked back, the fire flickered above the surrounding buildings. Smoke soaring into the clear sky. His eyes drifted down from the rear window and he took in Damian, curled into a ball shaking in the back seat. 

“Damian.” he reached out and expected to be pushed away but instead Damian jumped for him, climbing through the car to bury his face into his chest. 

They reached the edge of the city and Tim pulled over. He pushed open the car door and was barely out before falling to the gravel and wailing. He held on tightly to his son, still silently crying into his shirt, as he watched Tim beat the ground until he collapsed. A few minutes passed before Tim climbed to his feet, dusted off the oversized shirt that matched the one Damian was in and got back in the car. 

Tim looked at him, eyes widening before dropping to his lap. “I knew.” Seconds passed before Tim looked back up to him. “You love him and you still-”

“I did.” 

**-**

The funeral was small. Family and only the closest of friends. Diana hugged him until Bruce couldn't stand it. Clark looked like he desperately wanted to, but just gave him a, slightly too firm, pat on the shoulder and offered with a soft smile, “I still have some of that Dhulauri wine.” 

Bruce nodded and attempted a smile. He wasn't sure how successful it was, but he knew the attempt would be appreciated. Damian pressed in tighter where he was attached to his hip. He hadn't left his side for longer than a few minutes since they had gotten back to the manor. Tim stood beside Damian, holding his hand. The fights were a thing of the past. 

Bruce was supposed to say something. He had a speech Alfred had given him that morning when he'd stared vacantly at the breakfast plate in front of him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to make it through. 

Barbara spoke first. She spoke of their nights fighting together. Of the early morning conversations when they were supposed to be asleep, but too wired from the adrenaline. She laughed when she told the story of the first time she'd seen him on his personal trapeze rig. “I understood why they had called him a Robin. You would have thought he had wings.”

Alfred stepped up next. His voice was thick with emotion. He told them of the first year after they took him in, how much he had filled the manor with life. Dick always had something to say, some question he needed to know the answer to, something to climb. “I've never met a person more full of joy than that young man. Even after the trouble life gave him, he still smiled. And I think we should all keep that in mind.”

One of the Titans spoke next. Bruce couldn't listen. This was too painful, too hopeful, just too much. He picked Damian up, to avoid the struggle of getting him to stay with Tim and stepped out. Tim followed him out. “Bruce?” he shook his head. He'd been holding himself together, but he could feel himself losing his grip. 

“Father? Are you crying?” He hugged Damian and let go. Tim's arms wrapped around him a second later. They were huddled together in the middle of the foyer in a tiny church in the edge of Gotham, and Dick was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently edited, this fic was inspired by the song _South_ by Hippo Campus. It's an amazeballs song! If you haven't heard it, you can copy paste the URL below;
> 
> Studio Version;  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ure4jaEue5U
> 
> Acoustic Version;  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNUUsIU2AfM
> 
> This work is part one in a series of three stories. If you enjoyed it, please give us a kudos or a comment and pass it along! _Marble Candy_ will be out soon. 
> 
> All my lovin'!  
> - _Prubbs_


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